The Last (Loon-inspired) Red Flag
What do loons (who mate for life) know that we don't?
I started the “red flags” series recently to help alert older women (ie, women over forty, like me) spot male duds masquerading as eligible dudes. I’m finding I can’t do it anymore, so I’m making this my last red flag.
My reasons for stopping are not what you might guess. I mean, I could probably go on forever talking about red flags in men. I can’t do it anymore because I’m sick of all the relationship rules–the tips, warnings, does and don’ts. By calling out the red flags, it occurred to me I was just adding to all the relationship hogwash out there.
I came to this conclusion recently while watching loons in Wisconsin.
Loons, they say, mate for life. I guess it’s true since you always see them in pairs. It suddenly dawned on me: I have never seen a loon reading a how-to-find-your-soul-mate type of book–I mean, never. So why the heck should we read them?
Most of the relationship books I’ve looked at complicate the dating and mating thing, anyway. Ladies, we’ere dealing with men here–they’re straightforward and simple. Unless you’re super high, men could never be confused with mysterious creatures who dwell in caves recharging their superhuman powers while we blow dry our hair and trim our bushes into cute heart-shapes.
The other thing that annoys me is how these books make coupledom sound like some wildly exotic country we all must visit before we die. They entice you with wanderlust and then warn that it’s best to follow their (usually bulleted and/or numbered) advice lest you get eaten alive in the piranha-infested moats and razor-topped barricades surrounding the land of love.
More advice is provided for those who make it into the “honeymoon suite.” This typically takes the form of silly communication tips (like never say, “you…” and always repeat back what he said because he’s probably not even listening to what he says)–all of which are guaranteed to help both sides clarify their endless and impossible-to-satisfy demands.
Ever hear a loon arguing about getting more “us time?” I rest my case.
Still, I can’t part without a final red flag. It’s simply this: you find yourself saying, “…but he’s…” a lot.
Some examples:
“He’s so angry and argumentative…but his family has a villa in Italy.”
Or,
“He’s so emotionally repressed…but his blueberry waffles are to die for.”
Or,
“He’s so amazing in bed…but he’s prone to get drunk and pull out his dick at parties.”
Or,
“He’s so witty and smart…but he plays computer games with 12-year-olds until 3AM.”
You get the picture.
Now let’s say, you keep repeating the same “but he” to yourself until there’s no room left in your head to think another thought. That’s a sure signal that even though you like the stuff before the “but he,” you can’t accept what comes after. Which is about when you might thinking about moving on. Because the truth is, the “but” is really an “and”–and you can’t have one without the other.
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Comments
I’m sorry to see you abandoning this project. Red flags aren’t relationship “rules,” per se, but bright, flappy things designed to direct your attention to something that should be considered. It’s then up to the considerer (is so a word) to decide if said something is a deal-breaker or if it can and will be accepted.
I have a GF who drove me crazy, staying way too long with an egotistical, narcissistic bully. “But he crossed the room for me!” she’d say as my eyeballs rolled around in my head. Fast forward and the decision she had to make was this: He’s a jerk AND he crossed the room to meet me. Does the latter carry enough power to cancel out the former? What does the fact that I got all swoony over the latter in spite of the former say about my self-esteem? How can I recognize the former more quickly in others who do the latter?
Anyway, regardless of what you choose to write or not write about in the future, I’ve enjoyed your series on red flags and thank you for letting me throw in my tuppence!
Oh, the irony! Loon. Loony. Funny in the Head.