playing dumb
I know it's pointless to get in a lather about anything you read in the Daily Mail. I know. I'm an intelligent woman: here in Baroque Mansions you don't even get in the door without at least a bit of spark.
And that's just the point. Anna Pasternak - who has whinged about this in the press in the past,* & can't seem to get past it - in fact, seems to have written a book! (duh, but I'm willing to bet it's no Dr Zhivago for all her much-touted brains)** - is in the Girly Wail today bemoaning the fact that intelligent women seem to be bad at choosing life partners. Yes - it's our fault now! We can't choose right! It's because we're intelligent! (I only include myself in this category because I've been told so many times over the years how intelligent I am, seemingly it sticks out like a sore thumb, and even that it puts off boys. Trust me, I didn't come up with it on my own.)
So can I just say how sick I am of all this tosh?
Is it really true that men prefer silly women, women who don't earn enough, women who aren't funny, women who are no threat to a nincompoop? What, all men? What is this, 1950?? It's true, over the years it has come to seem at times that men may find the baroque manner intimidating - yes, unbelievably - specifically, the books - both the ones one owns and the ones one may yet write - the determination, quick wit, and probably - well - everything else. This is depressing enough, especially the study that concluded that men are put off by funny women (now I find out, all those years of learning to keep up in the pub - my gender politics is such crap...). Can you imagine? Not only do I have to be single, I also have to not crack jokes! Purgatory!
And now we have Anna Pasternak, whom I'm suspecting of not being as bright as she thinks she is, saying it is all our fault:** we intelligent women are apparently low in "EQ," or emotional intelligence. Yes: we are so intelligent we tell ourselves we can make it work, when we meet Mr Not-Quite-Right. We make a go of it based on our faith in the superiority of our own abilities.
Unlike all those other women! Women who aren't bright enough to think this way! Puh-lease. No, no, your average-intelligence divorce is probably based on something completely different.
But seriously. Given the dearth of opportunities even to try, once we've siphoned off all the guys who can't stand the heat, or the jokes, or the books,*** who could blame a girl for trying? Why make even that our fault??
Or, Anna, is this just your way of playing dumb?
* That one was even more naked, talking about Alpha women and Gamma men, and seeming to focus more on income and control-freakness (even there, whilst one one hand deriding men who don't earn enough, still blaming women for being ball-breakers). I won't say I've never been accused of being a control freak; on the other hand, I'm no worse than many, and pretty laidback about a surprising number of things. I'm also a wonderful cook, take care of myself, keep the house nice, and like evenings in with a DVD and a bottle of wine, as they say. And I still don't see how it relates to intelligence. Something tells me Anna is just casting about for the roots of her own dilemma.
** "In keeping with the title of Anna Pasternak's novel, this review of Daisy Dooley Does Divorce is brought to you by the letter D. Daisy Dooley is in the doldrums after her divorce, but as a self-help book devotee, she decides that "The Dharma of Dating" will give her new direction.
The drivel Anna Pasternak's tome delivers is predictably dire, but despite her self-doubt and ditsy declarations, Daisy herself is a delight. Her desire to find domestic bliss with her dream man is endearing, as is her dauntlessness in the face of disastrous dates. A deliciously droll account of life after disillusionment, with a dramatic denouement that doesn't disappoint."
*** Interestingly, she seems to conflate intelligence with income. Therein lies one's only comfort...
**** Actually, my favourite guy I've met in ages was a builder. But that's okay. He probably earned more than me.
n.b. This is dedicated to the one I love - I mean, to Ms Rational Self-Determinism, just as smart as Ms B, twice as scary, and never without a boyfriend.
18 comments:
Well, there's a distinct lack of Alpha-plus males lurking around Chez Glamour to whisk this Alpha female off her paws, but I doubt it's my rapier wit that's responsible, or my IQ, EQ, or any other attribute, I suspect it's more to do with the fact that the 'perfect' relationship only occurs in chick lit novels, many of which appear to be written by DM jouros, and I ain't no chick lit heroine.
Puss
Puss, it'll clearly be your glamour that's doing it. But I think that's a point: do you think blokes like a girl who reads chick-lit - because she might think they're Mr Perfect Alpha Male - or would they find that threatening too?
Have you checked your OQ? (It's like the OC, but it's for people who can't bear to watch the OC.)
You're hot. Teach me something. Do you do muse?
Edmond, I do, but seemingly not as much as you do! (I clicked on your link - as they say.)
That's first draft and incomplete because she's gone. Actually it ends appropriately. You understood it? I'm still deciphering it, and I wrote it~! That's what a muse can do to a man.... It hurt in the end...do it again, mommy....
Hi Ms B
Thank you - I now have an excuse apart from my lumpy bum.
xxx
Pants
How intelligent can you be if you let some man explain how YOU feel? Dead giveaway, that.
Well, caveat reader if you choose the Daily fail. Though I maintain CiF has the worst passage of the week, from one Angela McRobbie:
"I also recall - and this is well documented in feminist histories - all those women who remained single for whatever reason, and who were disparaged as spinsters, or as lesbians, but who never had the option of single motherhood, and who were therefore in a sense deprived of what might be seen as a basic human right."
"In a sense .. what MIGHT be ..." Well, is it or isn't it ? (the right to have a child, by IVF if no suitable bloke is reading, willing and able ...)
Miss B
Well, you're not the first person to say that. As to chick lit, I suspect most chaps would run a mile if they knew the truth of those books - as would I. Blech.
BTW, I thought it was illegal to watch the OC if you were over nineteen. That's why Mischa Barton makes no sense to anyone old enough to ask whether smiling winsomely in a variety of frocks at parties constitutes a career.
Puss
I've always been conspicuously intelligent and I've always had some partner - sexual or emotional - hanging about on the back step. There was a brief dry period and some poor judgement calls, I agree, but my current man (six years now, three kids, and still makes me tea in the morning) is everything I could hope for.
He's educated - but not so clever he might outshine me - and handsome - but not so handsome that every woman makes a beeline for him at parties, though that does happen occasionally and I have to watch through the bottom of my wine glass with the wry smile of the secure wife. He's also polite, accepting of his role as a plongeur and garbage putter-outer, an enthusiastic father and a damn good kisser.
He wears glasses too. Good god, he might be ... could he also be ... Superman?!
Jane x
I couldn't resist a little gender reversal exercise here:
She's educated - but not so clever she might outshine me - and attractive - but not so attractive that every man makes a beeline for her at parties, though that does happen occasionally and I have to watch through the bottom of my wine glass with the wry smile of the secure husband. She's also polite, accepting of her role as a plongeur and garbage putter-outer, an enthusiastic mother and a damn good kisser.
She wears glasses too. Good god, she might be ... could she also be ... Superwoman?!
Silly isn't it?
TSP, I refuse to consider your bum lumpy. Sorry.
Bluestocking, welcome!
P-Ump, one day I will storm the barricades of CiF; they drive me NUTS with the ill-considered driv - no, I'll stop. Thanks! Cup of tea?
Puss, I was making it up. Who's Mischa Barton?
Jane my dear, you are living proof of the asininity of Anna P's remarks. You see? Mind you I am still waiting to meet this paragon.
Edmond, don't fall into her trap! You're new here, you don't know! Jane has written a book about Boudicca, and let me tell you Boudicca is a sight more terrifying than those pansy legionnaires. Just nod and smile...
Dahlink! You're new to myself as well. I am Aries rising, Aries, with Mars on the Ascendant. I AM the God of War! Bring it chile. There's a scene in "13th Warrior" that is explicit of tactics.
Well, I'm an Aries too, but you make my Taurus rising look a little bit lame! I might just go look for some flowers to eat...
Edmond, meet my friend Jane. Jane, this is Edmond.
:backing out of room:
Nice to meet you Jane! I have the greatest respect for Boudicca. She's my kind of woman, and I would stand heel to heel with her against all comers. With my tactics and her will, oh the bodies we could stack! The fact that she was chosen to lead suggests that there wasn't a man her equal or better. Pity. And why hasn't Jane's book been referenced at Wikipedia?
And as for you MsB, a twelfth house sun in Aries is a very dangerous opponent. Your tactics will be in subterfuge...the remaining question would be answered by the house wherein your Mars resides, then we'd see.
My Mars is in Cancer. See, I'm not really a fighter.
With Mars in Cancer I've learned to watch my flanks..."not a fighter" - piffle and pure subterfuge, you're probably a sniper.
Hi Ms B - never having been particularly clever I've clearly had a bit of an advantage, some might say. I did pick up quite early on that it's not really ok for women to crack the funnies. I've always been the obliging sort.
But I've interrupted your conversation with Mr. Clay -
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