Baseball heart

I’ve written about dating deal breakers before but it’s something I keep coming back to. I’m really weirdly fixated on the seeming dichotomy between compromise and settling in relationships.

It’s not uncommon in DC for women to wait and wait and wait for the perfect guy only to wake up at 36 and realize they’re past their prime and all the men are married or gay or happily entrenched in the bachelor lifestyle.

I’ve always felt pretty strongly about finding this elusive perfect guy who’s 6’1 with chiseled abs, dark hair, and green eyes. He would sing on key while whipping up gourmet meals in the kitchen and always let the dishes soak before putting them in the dishwasher. Of course, he would drive a stick shift with total confidence, have enough money in his bank account to buy the Lexus SUV I’ve coveted since I was old enough to drive, and spend time with my family because he wanted to, not because I made him.

Maybe this perfect guy is out there somewhere but I’m pretty skeptical at this point.
And, even if he WAS, I know I’m not perfect, so how could I expect such a flawless specimen to want to be with me?

So let’s say I’m willing to “settle for less”.

How about a guy who’s caring and thoughtful and smart and funny and gets me McFlurries when I’m cranky and is generous with massages and never, ever has bad breath in the morning? This guy might not have those sea-foam eyes I dreamed about when I was younger, but he balances out what I naively thought were “must-haves” with other great qualities.

So what if he’s lousy at driving? He’s the king of map-reading and public transiting and can lead me safely around any city in the world as long as he’s got his hiking boots and a map.

Once upon a time I had all these deal breakers, but these days I’m thinking, three strikes doesn’t necessarily mean you’re out.

2 thoughts on “Three Strikes You’re Out?”

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