It’s been brought to my attention that certain GIRLS are bending themselves in hopes of scoring the coveted “date.”
I’m not talking about the bending of their bodies for sex; I’m talking about something worse: the bending of their brains.
I’m discussing the surplus of Generation-Y girls who sway their radical opinions in order to swing in unison with the boy’s.
The pretty, smart, razor-sharp women who sport impressive college degrees from Ivy League institutions yet consciously alter their well-researched, highly intelligent point-of-view and badass personal style and high-reaching career ambitions -- to suit a suitor they hardly know.
Oh you know, the 20-something-year-old women who actively water down their fiercely magnetic personalities on dates in hopes of being seen as the “marrying kind.”
F*cking awesome girls who are under the false impression that they must melt themselves into a cohesive girl version of the boy, ladies who feel they must make themselves small so they can fit into the guy’s big, expansive life.
When the truth is as simple and as pure as this: Being authentic will get you the boy; being a carbon copy will not.
It hit me like a ton of hot bricks the other night. I was out by myself on a Thursday, nursing a glass of red wine whilst keenly observing the ever-fascinating social scene, as I often do.
This particular evening, I was observing a group of attractive, freshly blow-dried females at an upper Manhattan bar -- the type of bar that is made up of glass and chrome that’s teeming with bankers and $22 martinis and red nails.
The group of girls under this particular evening’s watchful eye were all mid-20s Millennial prototypes: pretty young things who collectively grew up on heaps of “Sex And The City” and are blatantly transparent in their attempts of perfectly emulating Ms. Carrie Bradshaw, herself.
They all had flat-ironed, pin-straight hair and perfectly manicured nails that clutched the same clichéd pink cocktail that outs suburban roots (real city girls wouldn't be caught dead drinking anything pink).
I watched in amazement, for they were a swarming sea of pointed stilettos and exorbitant croc purses and calculatedly "undone" hair, self-consciously conversing in high-pitched voices about their thriving “editorial” careers.
They were so obviously trying ad nauseam to look and act like the sophisticated city-career women they presumed the handsome triad of young finance men holding court in the center of the bar wanted.
Despite their over-eager efforts, it was painfully apparent to the naked eye that the boys were far more intrigued by the two artsy, downtown-looking girls at the high-top table to the left than they were to this massive group of ravenous, man-hungry glamazons.
For this bohemian twosome was simply aglow with their fearless expression of true personal style, and, most importantly, they were actually enjoying each other’s company -- the sweet sounds of genuine laughter tinkling across the bar, flattering its sensitive acoustics.
They weren’t there to meet guys. They weren't putting on a “Sex and The City” reenactment showcase.
They were there to have fun, which, sadly in this city, is wildly refreshing. They were being themselves, and the boys were f*cking HOT for it.
After all, wasn’t everyone so besotted with the fictional Carrie Bradshaw precisely because she was unique? Because she didn’t dress or act like the rest of the uptown ladies?
Because she had her own quirky style and was unabashedly herself at all times?
We fell in love with the character of Carrie Bradshaw because she was an authentic breath of fresh air -- just like these two chicks.
So, girl, remember: Being authentic will get you the date. Being a carbon copy will NOT.
Because we can smell your desperation
We can smell it when someone is being false, no matter what drastic measures he or she takes to mask it.
Think of it like a seemingly gorgeous apartment with a forgotten rotten egg hanging out in the trash.
You can dutifully spray the entire contents of the apartment with the most powerful Glade on the market, haplessly invade its insides with a dramatic surplus of expensive, yummy-smelling candles and burn down all the Nag Champa incense your local new-age store has in stock -- but that rotting egg stench will penetrate through all of your efforts.
Even the harshest chemicals can't cover up the smell of desperation.
It's that ever-genuine smell of something so real and something so pure that intoxicates us to the core.
It's that refreshing scent what we hopelessly crave and want in abundance.
Honesty cultivates honesty
We feel at ease around people who are honest because they inspire us to be honest.
And in a world with so much pressure to act a specific way, a universe ablaze with endless pressure and bullsh*t -- it's such a relief to breathe and be real.
We're drawn to authentic people because their honesty puts at ease. Watching them take their guard off and be themselves makes us want to do the same, and it feels good.
We are inherently attracted to confidence
People who are authentic are confident, and we’re attracted to confidence.
When people are trying too hard to be something they’re not -- we can sense it from a mile away.
I have a theory that desperation is a trait that is universally off-putting: The only people who are drawn to desperation are predators.
The rest of us are scared sh*tless of people who are so outwardly thirsty and seek the stable roots of a confident soul.
Vulnerability is sexy
News flash: Vulnerability is crazy sexy. The whole "let's pretend to be super tough and cool when we're really freaking out inside" is a turn-off.
When someone acts human, we actually like it. If you had a bad day or are nervous, you're so much better off being honest about it because your realness is what makes us close to you.
There is a pent up frenetic energy around people who pretend to be unaffected, and it's an energy that is palpably toxic and unnerving.
The truth is more fascinating than fiction
This lesson took me a long time to digest, but I swear to the great goddess up above its truth is as f*cking pure as a golden nugget buried deep within the crux of the earth.
The truth is far more fascinating than fiction ever will be. You are far more interesting, bare and raw than a full face of makeup and calculated answers.
Your upbringing, regardless of how you feel about it, is never something you should be ashamed of.
Your quirks and flaws and joys and music taste and crazy siblings are exclusively yours -- don't hide them in hopes to appear more sophisticated and interesting.
And lastly, when you're tapped into your authentic self, there is no competition.
You're free to be you, and when you feel free is when you draw in the best dates imaginable.