So many women feel they have to be all-round-perfect to communicate their “value”.
A fortress of lashes, hair, firm abs, three businesses and multiple degrees. The accomplishments are jaw-dropping, impressive... but I also gently check their motivation.
Why not do less?
And so unravels the honest admission that we feel the pressure of a competitive market - be it dating or any other arena (ie, most) where we fear being “upgraded”.
More and more has to be ticked off to feel like enough. There is always someone more intelligent, better travelled or with a firmer butt to catch your lover’s eye.
And we wonder why we have trouble letting go emotionally.
Or truly, letting anyone in.
Because the quest for perfection makes you feel on guard, continuing the projection of a woman in control, while inwardly, we’re spiralling and so scared of what will happen if someone saw our “truth”. On the other side, I also observe imperfectly peaceful women.
And the soothing forcefield such a woman emits is palpable. Who wouldn’t want to be around someone who feels emotionally at ease? The Europeans tend to do this so beautifully, waving a dismissive bof to our neurotic quests for ‘more’. The truth is, men who love women want all you encompass: the freedom of movement, the candour of authentic features and the sensuality of body parts that wobble.
I noticed a different response when I stopped mentally competing with younger women. I am 41, not 25 - and that’s ok.
Deep down, I’m not a ‘cool girl’. I have frustrating aspects of my personality and blind spots that people wish I’d change. All that is ok. The trade-off is that being around a partner who embodies self-acceptance is more peaceful - because we get to cut our partner some slack too that way.
I don’t feel my man ‘owes’ me anything just because I’m such a ‘catch’. I quietly know my value - and my imperfection keeps me humble. I cut my partner slack because the pressure is off us to be superhuman in society’s eyes. My partner is also no longer exhausted through reassuring me or enduring an old self-loathing narrative he’s powerless to fix. In my experience, men don’t love perfect women.
They love human, imperfect women who emanate peace.
What do you think?