Gosh, I hate to love this song — or is it love to hate this song? It’s unrequited love at its finest: the crescendo of all that defines the B-roll of your dating life that’s left on the cutting floor. And everybody has that B-roll they don’t want to talk about — even famous, have-it-goin-on folks. It’s not that you are unpretty or charming or wife material — it’s that you are ALL of those things and they still don’t want you. You’re not their kind of girl. You’re their girl on paper but not in person. *sigh* Frustrated, yet? Well, grab a stress ball or your favorite sob calories (pint of ice cream), because here come the lyrics:
Oh, girl, I know that you’re attracted to me
And I should feel the same about you
But there’s something wrong
I don’t know what it is
That keeps us from becoming a two
It’s not your looks (You’re very pretty)
It’s not your style (The way you dress is oh so fresh)
It’s not the way that you carry yourself
Oh, girl, I’m (sorry)
You’re not my (kind of girl)
’Cause you’re the kind of girl that a man’s dreams are made of
Oh, girl, I’m (sorry)
You’re not my (kind of girl)
’Cause you’re the kind of girl that a man would be proud to call his own
“You’re Not My Kind of Girl” // NEW EDITION // 1988
I learned there are three groups of people when it comes to dating: those that both fall in love on equally romantic planes, those that both are not that attracted to each other (so no hard feelings), and the third (which is the worst group to be in) is the unrequited love group in which one individual is pining for the adoration of the other emotionally untethered individual. I’ve found myself in that last category quite often. I’ve learned that I am a natural at subordinating myself to a man, due to my limerant spirit which I wrote a whole blog about. Men have also been on the disempowered receiving end of the third positon: when they had feelings for ME that I could not get myself to return. If I could flip this song to say “Sorry, you’re not my kind of guy”, then the heartbreaker in me would come out. Then men reading this would know the feeling— because they have been through the same as me. At one point, a women was indifferent to your advances — your charm, your stature, your good nature — because you were just not their kind of guy. It’s a cruel reality when it comes to this intangible feeling of sweet connection one is gaining from the other — but not reciprocated.
All this to say, I have no diagnosis. I empathize with all the other souls out there who have been in this pergatory of love, but I can’t doctor the remedy — because there is none. All I can say is better luck next time, and hopefully it’s the last time. Hopefully you found your needle in a haystack. I’ve stopped searching the hay and started looking up a bit more, enjoying the sun rises and sunsets. For some reason, it used to soothe my spirit to know “there is no such thing as your one soulmate — there are many people for us” is what we are told. But, really, is there? I’m starting to believe in The One Soulmate Theory again, because I believe love is less practicle (and not based on merit) and more dumb luck and divine fate.
Life is short. And Love? She is confusing. Don’t even pay attention to her world until her invisible forces make you bow down to her: for better to fight against falling in Love (because I believe it’s inevitible you can’t miss something meant for you) than fighting to manufacture her. She hates manufacturers of something so intrincially divine —a.k.a. fate, destiny, God, a miracle. Love is just that. Because too many people are manufacturing Love to fit in with other coupled-people’s lives — instead of letting Love, wherever she may be, fit in with their own life. Awe, the tortoise and the hare anology: the route to true love is often slow and veryyy humbling these days. Whenever that may be, whatever that may look like, rest your head in NOT knowing — because, my little warriors, you’ll still win. Time to relax on what you can’t control. Time to put the ice cream away and embrace the many other facets of this precious LIFE….