Something missing on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I hate to need your help — but I can’t admit this to my friends, and I’m beginning to struggle. Okay.

My boyfriend is perfect.

And I don’t care.

Well, it’s not that I don’t care — I do! I think he’s the best! It’s been almost three months (and you’d be so proud, we’ve been going oh-so-slow. I’m 32, he’s 39 and we’ve both been burned before, so there is a certain degree of caution on both sides), and we really *like* each other. And I don’t mean in the like as opposed to love sense, but in the genuine affection sense. It’s kind of scary. This could actually happen, for real, BG. This could *work.*

We’re both really busy at work, so we only see each other on the weekend, but then our dates last for like, ten hours! We talk, we hang out, we go hiking and biking — it’s great. And he *talks* to me! And actually listens, too! And he thinks the same and he’s funny and he works really hard and he loves his dog. And he thinks the absolute world of me.

But.

But I don’t feel like ripping his clothes off. He’s cute, too! And when I close my eyes and he kisses me (and one evening when we’d both had a teensy too much to drink and were silly . . . that was pretty good) … Oh, BG, I’m just a mess. He’s handed me his ego on a silver platter, and I am terrified of hurting him. And I just feel like he deserves *more*. Like a woman that wants to rip his clothes off, maybe.

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Under the influence on November 9, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I haven’t had a boyfriend for 2 years ( I’m 16). Lately I have just been frustrated because every guy in high school seems to be so immature. And, I had pretty much given up on guys. Then this year at school I start talking to this one guy, he doesn’t come to my school but plays on the soccer team– and I’m on the volleyball team. We started talking, on the way to games, tournaments, etc. Anyway, a couple weeks ago I hear he likes me. And I realized a few days ago that I like him more than a friend also. He is such an awesome guy and he’s not stupid and immature like the other guys, he is 18. What I’m wondering is — am I just liking him because he likes me and I haven’t had a boyfriend for a while, or do I really like him? I’m so confused. Plus, I just don’t know about relationships, it seems like a waste of time because we are just gona go out, and either I will break up and hurt him, or he will break up w/me and I will be hurt. This is my problem I analyze every little thing and convince myself that there is no way I might actually just have fun in the relationship, I never see the good side. Please write back and help me, I am in serious need of some advice!!!

–Nicole

Dear Nicole,

There’s an expression called “beer goggles” that I will explain to you in the perhaps vain hope that sixteen-year-olds are unfamiliar with it. It’s about the non-wholesome notion that, well, anyone looks attractive after the checker-outer has had a few brewskis. But there’s also a much more wholesome corollary: Attention Goggles. Someone starts mackin’ on you, that boyski buzz kicks in, and all of a sudden you’re like, “I NEVER REALIZED WHAT AN INTERESTING PERSON HE IS.” Which is not to say that your feelings, or at least interest-sparkage, are invalid. Heck, he’s proving he has good taste. So quit wondering and worrying — and go with it. At least long enough for the goggles to come off. But everything else should stay on, young lady.

Love,
Breakup Girl

Taking it slow on August 24, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I’m 28, I’ve been dating a guy for about three weeks, we’ve gone out 5-6 times, and I enjoy going out with him. But, hmmmmm…. I don’t feel any great overwhelming, surrender to me romantic attraction at this point. I thought I did initially, but even at the time I think I knew it was Affection Deprivation Syndrome (I hadn’t had any male-based attention in about 5 months after a pretty painless breakup). The problem is, I have always been a slow burner as far as men are concerned. I go along thinking so and so is a good midnight breakfast buddy and then one day I’m making my apartment lemony-fresh and thinking of something he said and laughing or out with a group of people and wishing I was with him and I can’t get him or the way he makes me feel out of my head. So I don’t know. I feel like this has the potential to turn into that, but I can never tell (time frame on these feelings is usually 4 – 6 months). The thing is, how do I tell him I don’t feel it now, but I might feel it in a little while, but I can’t be sure? Is this impossible? Is this leading him on? From what I know of him so far, he’s got his heart on his sleeve 24-7, so the friend thing would be really hard for him to handle, even though I would work on that level. And I would never string him along as a backup man (I know how bad that feels from past experience). So what can I do?

Sincerely,
Kickin’ it Slo-mo Style

BG’s answer after the jump!

Back in high school, my sister and I came up with a flawless policy: the only guys worth dating were either Jewish or Italian. It was some ill-informed, possibly offensive stereotyping whose underlying basis was a premium on swarthy looks and/or in-your-face intellectualism.

Of course, this schoolgirl theorizing fell apart in the harsh light of reality, and we both ended up going out with a variety of types (a.k.a. “people”).

At this point in my life, I have been attracted to enough off-the-menu body-styles and personalities that I cannot claim to have any “type” at all.

You know, they’re all good–mesomorphs to ectomorphs, skin tone hexidecimals #000000 through #FAF8CC, blue-collar to Episcopal1an priest collar, raconteurs and strong silent types.

I was reminded of this while reading Lemondrop’s post about The Secret Guy ‘Types’ Women Lust After, and trying to come up with some ridiculously reductive categories that they may have missed. E.g., I.T. guys.  Personal trainers with hearts of gold. Mail carriers. Daytime bartenders.

Go ahead: your turn!

We all know love can feel like a roller coaster. But for Amy Wolfe, 33 — a real-life Leigh Swift? — love is a roller coaster. As the Telegraph reports:

Amy Wolfe, a US church organist who claims to have objectum sexuality, a condition that makes sufferers attracted to inanimate objects, plans to marry a magic carpet fairground ride. This follows a “courtship” of 3,000 rides over ten years with the 80 ft gondola ride called 1001 Nachts. Miss Wolfe, 33, from Pennsylvania, will change her surname to Weber after the manufacturer of the ride she travels 160 miles to visit 10 times per year, according to reports.

“I love him as much as women love their husbands and know we’ll be together forever,” she said.

Miss Wolfe first fell for the ride when she was 13: “I was instantly attracted to him sexually and mentally.

“I wasn’t freaked out, as it just felt so natural, but I didn’t tell anyone about it because I knew it wasn’t ‘normal’ to have feelings for a fairground ride.”

In any regard, she’s not alone. Say what you want about the symbolism involved in marrying the Eiffel Tower, but according to this article by the creator of a documentary on the topic, “Why people really fall in love with objects is a controversial issue. The OS [Objectum Sexual] members believe it to be metaphysical but most of the women I interviewed had serious difficulties in early childhood, from severe sexual abuse to abandonment and rejection.” Many of them have Asperger’s Syndrome, which can make interpersonal interaction challenging. From the latter article: “It is not that an Asperger person does not long for human relationships; they do, desperately. But someone who falls in love with objects can control that relationship on their own terms,” says psychotherapist Jerry Brooker. “Their objects will not let them down. That is extremely attractive for a person who is otherwise often desperately lonely.”

So we’re not going to point fingers and laugh here; I’m sure we’ve all whispers of similar feelings: devotion to an excellent pen, say, or passion for a perfect tomato — perhaps even, once in a while, preferring their company to that of humans.

That said, for a good-natured game (a grownup version of “Then Why Don’t You Marry It”), let’s play: if you could marry an inanimate object, what would it be? I mean, besides grilled cheese.

Okay, it’s all a blur. Earlier this month, I reported that men — definitively! (at least according to SCIENCE) — were most drawn to brunettes. Then BG found even more current research that confirmed the old chestnut about blondes. And now there’s more breaking news on the hue front.  According to ScienceDaily, a new study reveals that “the color red makes men feel more amorous toward women.” That’s red as in plumage — like Jessica Rabbit’s dress — not her hair. In other words, if you thought the world lacked enough pop songs, famously lipsticked kissers, other iconic red dresses and more pop songs to prove it, now we’ve got the scientific stats to back it up. Kinda the same way we figured out the sky is blue.

But speaking of woodland creatures: “Although this aphrodisiacal effect of red may be a product of societal conditioning alone, the authors argue that men’s response to red more likely stems from deeper biological roots. Research has shown that nonhuman male primates are particularly attracted to females displaying red. Female baboons and chimpanzees, for example, redden conspicuously when nearing ovulation, sending a clear sexual signal designed to attract males…findings confirm what many women have long suspected and claimed — that men act like animals in the sexual realm. As much as men might like to think that they respond to women in a thoughtful, sophisticated manner, it appears that at least to some degree, their preferences and predilections are, in a word, primitive.”

[OK, but you know what? Humans are animals. Just ONCE, I’d like to see a study like this that didn’t “conclude,” with great sciencey fanfare, “See? Men ARE animals!” — BG, seeing red.]

Here’s my logic problem. A guy has to choose between a brunette in a red sweater and a blonde in an ivory sweater. Uh oh! Now who’s the belle of the ball? Something tells me this isn’t so black and white. Jessicas and Rogers: what’s your take?

Rose Martelli and Maria Burnham also contributed to this post.

Jackie over at our Hair Desk recently reported the breaking news that gentlemen, in fact, prefer brunettes. Perhaps we spoke too soon.

Someone’s been reading academic journals for the articles! Marginal Revolution draws our attention to an article in the Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin entitled, no kidding, “Playboy Playmate Curves: Changes in Facial and Body Feature Preferences Across Social and Economic Conditions,” which posits that in lean times, men go for, well, lean women. In other words:”The Environmental Security Hypothesis says that in tough times men will prefer women who are good at production, generally older, taller, heavier, less curvaceous women with less body fat.  In good times, they will prefer women who are good at reproduction, generally younger, shorter, lighter, more curvaceous women.  Pettijohn and and Jungeberg look at the characteristics of playboy playmates from 1960 to 2000 and find:

Consistent with Environmental Security Hypothesis predictions, when social and economic conditions were difficult, older, heavier, taller Playboy Playmates of the Year with larger waists, smaller eyes, larger waist-to-hip ratios, smaller bust-to-waist ratios, and smaller body mass index values were selected. These results suggest that environmental security may influence perceptions and preferences for women with certain body and facial features. 

It’s not a new study, but it does invite speculation about what type of Playmate of the Year a 2009 economy will bring us. If things keep going the way they are now, my money’s on Rosie the Riveter.

Researchers at Florida State University embarked on a skin-deep academic journey to uncover men’s preferences for women’s hair length. They learned that men favor loooooong hair. Add thick and brown to the tresses equation and they’ll be swooning. Yes, you heard me correctly – brown. The men studied reported a preference for brunettes over blondes. So why the fascination with her, huh? And where, BG might wonder, does this leave redheads? (Here’s the advice from the report our tipster spotted at AOL Shopping — ! — which itself should tip us off that this inforrmation is more advertorial than scientific: “Don’t have long tresses? Fake it! Shop for a long, brown wig.” Sorry, Det. Scottie Ferguson, it actually does matter to me!)

But while we’re here, just for fun, how heavily does hair length/color weigh in your attraction to a potential mate? What happens on a bad hair day?

The BBC reports that while a woman is naturally attracted to men who smell like a good genetic match (this, to me, would be a musky mix of garlic, teen spirit, and his excellent dog), the hormone havoc wreaked by the birth control pill may turn her on to the wrong guys. “Wrong” here meaning too genetically similar for species diversity, not (necessarily) “that unbelievable douchebag I can’t believe she likes.”

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