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You're Too Picky!
May 17, 2000
" … Those who hope in me will not be disappointed."
Isaiah 45:23 NIV
My friend Tim has a saying he likes to repeat when I'm
relaying the newly discovered quirks of the man I'm interested in at the moment
— "He who wait for perfect horse will have mighty long walk."
Though it makes me want to slug him, I have to give him credit
for originality. Everyone else phrases this same sentiment with much less flair
and much more finger-pointing — "You're too picky!"
I want to hear from any single person who hasn't heard this
favorite line of advice-givers repeatedly — and find out where you live. I
think I'll move there. Tomorrow.
Sure, I know there's truth in what they're saying. Mr. Perfect
doesn't exist (at least not in the three-dimensional world outside TV and movies)
so I should never entertain the notion of finding him. And I'm well aware that
I'm not Ms. Perfect, so it would be a mis-match even if I did find him.
I must admit I once ruled out a guy because, as I told my friends,
"I couldn't picture him hanging out in a bowling alley." Though that comment
has strong picky overtones, what I meant is that he was too stiff to have the
kind of kooky fun I need in my life every now and then. This guy talked about
church history all night. By the end of the evening I was not only bored silly,
I felt utterly ignorant. And I sure don't need any help in that area of my life!
I'll also admit there are singles who really are too picky.
For example, a friend of mine who for the sake of our friendship I'll call Joe,
rules out women for trivial Jerry-Seinfeld-like reasons such as "she's not into
camping" (this from the suburbanite who hasn't been camping in years) and "she's
not athletic enough" (Joe plays sports only slightly more often than he camps).
Another friend of mine only dates brunettes (so much for blondes having more
fun — or at least more dates!).
Somewhere between Joe and I'll-date-anyone-with-a-pulse there
has to be a happy medium. I mean really, I'm supposed to seriously consider
the guy who still does pranks — sometimes sans clothes — with his buddies
from college? Or the guy who told my friends tacky jokes about urinals all night
the first time he met them? I think being somewhat picky is a good thing. I'm
not waiting this long to promise the rest of my days on earth to Mr. Okay or
Mr. Close Enough. That's light years worse than pickyness; that's settling.
And that's dishonoring to myself, my potential mate, and God. So I'm a little
picky. Sue me.
Now when the advice-givers of the world cry, "You're too picky!",
I assure them I'm not looking for Mr. Perfect — I'm looking for Mr. Perfect-For-Me.
If he's out there, I know he'll be worth the wait.
Blessings!
Camerin Courtney
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