Several men have told me that, according to God, we needed to be together.
“We were destined to be together.” “God wants us to be together.”
Wow, God wants EXACTLY what you want. Don’t you love it when that happens?
A lot of men have said — and apparently believed — that they were my soulmates. I must have a lot of soul. Or maybe it’s God’s way of telling me that I’m meant for plural marriage — or a harem of dubious men. Or the soulmate department is falling behind in quality control and empowering way too many dudes with this notion.
No. It’s the 19th century problem of Manifest Destiny — the conviction that an action is sanctioned by fate, history or A Force Larger Than Us. (What did the Indians think of this destiny? Did their god really want them to be on reservations and running blackjack tables?)
For what it’s worth, I’m not a big believer in the the MD. And I’m pretty sure these guys are more aligned with their libidos than with my soul. A more honest perhaps less compelling assessment might be, “I find you aesthetically pleasing and would like to mate.”
It’s happened with complete strangers and with I-could-have-sworn-were-platonic friends. Why does he suddenly gets it in his mind to take a shot? It’s the lottery – he knows he’s not going to win – but yet at one point he will buy a ticket rather than wonder, “What if…” (Yes, sometimes girls do take guys out of the “Friends Freezer*.” But this is rare.) Friends, co-workers, men on the street, the UPS driver, the guy at the post office, the guy at Kinko’s who was kinkier then I thought.
You are my waitress. You bring me delicious egg-drop soup. You, however, are not my new lesbian lover.
You are my postman. You bring me my mail. You aren’t my male.
You are my photographer. You took photos of me, don’t picture us walking down the aisle together.
You are a nice 85-year-old man who I let have my chair. You are not my latest desire as I take part in that popular new fetish, Grampa love.
I have a beautiful friend who cuts people off at the knees. She can make men wish they’d never existed. I know the genesis of this behavior; the impulse is there for me. But at least make an initial attempt to let someone down easy. Then, all bets are off. I can aim one straight to the gonads when they won’t go away.
Having a multitude of anything requires more careful management of your wealth. I’ve been given an aesthetic beauty that has allowed me to make a living. (Thank you, God.) It also it means that my UPS man decides we’re soulmates. (Party foul, Lord!) But I’m not Greta Garbo. I don’t “want to be alone.” I don’t close my heart to the world. But I can’t be everyone’s lover — and do you really want my pity love, anyway? (Don’t answer that. It may be a pity fuck, but the word “fuck” is still included. Most guys will be like, “I’m in.” )
Don’t hate the player; hate the evolutionary playbook. A guy will try anything to get the goods. They launched fleets of ships to get Helen of Troy and this behavior is the modern-day equivalent. I won’t cut your balls off or vomit on you. I understand it’s your job to swim upstream. However, YOU must understand that when I say “no” – we’re done. And having the mentality of a persistent used car salesman, badgering me into a relationship I don’t want, isn’t going to work. This isn’t a romantic comedy where I say “I hate you” and 90 minutes later we’re in love. For every story some dude tells you about his persistence paying off with a woman, there’s 11,000 tales of it annoying the hell out of her.
Clint Eastwood’s classic movie “Play Misty for Me” shows this delusion at its pinnacle. According to Eastwood, it’s not about him being a star who is pestered – it’s that we’ve ALL been pursued by unwanted suitors. We’ve all had someone turn on the high beams of unrequited love. It’s about misinterpreting something we said, or creating a context that never existed.
No one wants to be a robot who selects the blandest phrases to keep men at bay. Or be a bitch who makes all scurry with your furry. Does this person seem needier than most? Are you getting the creepy vibe? Are they texting, emailing or calling too often? Nip it in the bud. The minute your meter goes off, act. Don’t allow these desires to grow into twisted fantasies and for suitors to have false hope.
As I get older, I’ve been told by former beauty queens that these moments go away and you won’t miss it. Others refuse to give up the sash and the crown and throw themselves on the cross of plastic surgery and immature fashions. I, on the other hand, have a track suit from Ross all picked out for when my flower has faded.
*Friend Freezer – A place where male friends are banished to the planet Platon, home of all platonic relationships. It’s very cold.
An actor and women’s safety advocate, Candace Kita is the author of “The Hottie Handbook: A Girl’s Guide to Safety.” As a safety specialist, Candace has been interviewed by People, Good Morning America, the Jay Leno Show, Inside Edition, the Los Angeles Times, 48 Hours, the LOGO Network and WHO Australia.