It's Biology, Baby

We all want the same things. We want to be loved. We want to love in return. We want to feel like we have something stable. This is what we say to each other over and over again. But then our actions belie everything we say we hold true.
Why do we set ourselves up to fail?

E calls me at two in the morning. Gushing. She’s met the man she’s been looking for. She calls to tell me she met a boy. He’s great. His name’s Marcel. He was born in the states and raised in the Netherlands and he’s got this old world charm about him. The reason he’s got old-world charm, however, is because he’s old. Marcel is 43. 20 years older than E. And he’s not a successful 43. Marcel is currently the head waiter at Tavern on the Green. But that’s just until he makes his big break on the big screen.
E probably makes more than him each year (Or she’ll claim more than him on her taxes, anyway). She’s successful and, at 23, she’s starting a career. One that will afford her opportunities that will allow her to pick and choose her options at 43. Marcel is 43 and alone at a bar full of 20-somethings on a Saturday night. Why is he so attractive?
Biologically speaking, animals survive because of the “Picky Female” syndrome. The female species is supposed to be selective. We are supposed to go for the biggest males, the alphas of the pack, the ones that will always make the kill, find the water, start the fire, pick up the old bone and use it to beat the weaker males away. But more and more lately, I find my successful friends leaning towards total losers. We’re not supposed to be picky. Everybody’s supposed to be equal. And in the egalitarian community, a 43-year-old waiter should get the same deference as a 26-year-old investment banker. But is that really the case? What’s wrong with being a snob?
My friend J is a snob and we all tend to look down on her for it a little bit, glad that money and a good job and a great family isn’t as important to us. But J is well provided for. She was a selective female and got a great man in the bargain. He’s got a great job, he takes care of her, she doesn’t want for anything. And she got him by being a snob, by not lowering her standards just so she could feel like she was treating everybody the same. Being egalitarian wasn’t important to J. Being provided for was.
While E was being served by the waiter uptown, I was downtown, in unfamiliar territory, namely the west side. I’m a girl who likes to stick on a subway line (easy way to duck home) so already I was feeling out of sorts as I looked out over the Hudson River, being reminded that home (and my high school past) were not that far away. As I was chatting with friends of mine, a man comes over and demonstrates why the alpha male can be a huge problem. Instead of introducing himself with a handshake, he sidles up to me and puts his hand on my hip. Except it’s not staying on my hip. Rather, it’s sliding down and around. While I admit that my total lack of an ass (due to the fact I’m half Irish) is a fascinating phenomenon, it’s not one that should be investigated before you even say hello. As I took his hand away, he got almost nasty.
“Don’t push me away.” He nearly snarled it.
“Hey, just don’t touch me and I won’t have to.” I was trying to be diplomatic, but it was hard when there’s a nasty guy touching you. It’s never the cute ones who want to grab your ass. It’s only the ones that can’t touch a woman’s ass any other way but to grab when they see a free opportunity.
There is nothing more frustrating than when you’re trying to be nice and putting distance between yourself and your attacker and he just keeps coming at you. Eventually, you just want to scream at him, “Can’t you get the damned point? If I thought you were even remotely not troll-like, I would chat you up. But I’m fleeing. Get the hint.”
But if you do that, you’re a snob. As he kept telling my friends. Which is uncomfortable. One of my friends kept trying to tell me he was a nice guy, and maybe he was, but instantly, when I feel someone’s hand where is shouldn’t be, I instantly feel how nice can he be? Instantly, however, I was the snob. The choosy female. And that was wrong.
By eliminating the “Choosy Female” factor, however, we’re eliminating a basic animal instinct that has served thousands of species for more years then we’ll ever accurately know. We’re denying a history that is clearly stronger and smarter than current schools of thought and, as a result, we’re making poor choices that can eventually be more destructive than helpful. We don’t have to be nice to the weird guy with the roving hands. Eliminating a man who approaches you at the bar because he’s a 43 year old waiter is not wrong. It’s animalistic in the strongest sense of the word.