I don’t think any woman alive will ever live up to your standards.
I got an anonymous tip-off this morning on my facebook honesty box application. This is what it says: Unadulterated.
I don’t think any woman alive will ever live up to your standards. It seems like you’ve built up a woman who doesn’t exist, and women can sense that. It might be what’s giving you so much trouble in this particular situation.
This should not be misinterpreted as a scramble-to-defenses sort of writing regarding this. It’s not likely that I would have a vehemont reaction to such a statement, being how that first sentance has been uttered, word for word, by several independent people in different social circles. So, it bears examination.
There are two things that I think might be referred to as something that establishes my “standard”
The first, and most likely, is my expectation of myself convince a woman to marry me without the aid of any serious physical involvement. In the past five years of holding myself to this; I have met women that I believed would be capable of following through on a relationship with me, each one has fallen in turn to the test of time and other, less concerned, suitors. Generally speaking, there are a substantial number of people who understand the expectation of celibacy, and the extension of that idea to kissing is a slight stretch for most, but not impossible.
The second, possibly, but not probably, is my willingness to highly compliment certain women with poetry. Perhaps the idea that a statement complimenting a particular woman’s beauty, makes her feel inadequate, like it is an epitaph she cannot live up to; is what is being referred towards. I think that’s silly, personally, unless the person commenting thinks me to be disingenuous or overtly charming for some alterior motive. If I say such a thing to you, it’s because I like you. It’s because you really are that beautiful. I’ll digress, the first is far more likely. One of my darkest hours entailed being told how wonderful the romance had been, in spite of it’s eventual failure– being simultaneous dashed and praised for my idealism. I have never come across such serious evidence that what I seek is impossible, though at the moment, I was more occupied with the immediate consequences.
I do not think that the romance is the problem on the surface; but a base matter of interest. These women were not that interested in me, point blank. That is a discomforting thought in and of itself, but the fulcrum here is that the impossibility of the matter lies in myself: my ability to attract a woman to the extent that follow through will take place, opposed to the pursuit of other men, or percieved demerit in pursuing a relationship sans physicality.
I have been unable to do this, for whatever reason, not even in situations where the women have been statedly interested. That is my male colored understanding of my situation, I do not understand what ‘standard’ I am holding women to, other than an expectation of comely love, enacted on with purity. Those are each difficult, but the only way that I know how to live properly. If ‘properly’ is too difficult, then I will do without; I despise the notion that failure is always inevitable.
We can do all things through Him.