The Sea King’s Wooing, William Bell Scott, 1858
It ain’t your average bra size. In fact, it has nothing to do with bra size… gutter brain.
The three Ds are the once unconscious way I used to, as a newly single woman in her 30s, rate the various men that crossed my path… Do-able. Date-able. Don’t.
My cognizant awareness of this method took place after a friend, knowing that I found a certain mutual acquaintance attractive, asked why I simply didn’t ask him out. My answer was simple: “Oh, he’s do-able but he’s not date-able.” It shocked her. It definitely surprised me.
It goes a little something like this…
Yeah, you’re hot. (You don’t have to be “traditionally” hot either… just hot to me.) I’ll admire. I might admire a lot. I could even possibly consider hopping in the sack with you. But something about you makes dating an impossibility. Maybe you hate kids. Maybe you can’t get your act together. Maybe I’m fully aware of your recreational drug habit. It could be a myriad of traits that make you ineligible for relationship status… but your still do-able, hot stuff.
You have the potential to be the right guy. I can’t even begin to explain how rare it is that this occurs. Even when it does… staying here is difficult. Hey! I’m picky. A lot of guys transition from Date-able to Do-able as I get to know them. And, more rarely, from Date-able to Don’t. Most common is the transference from Date-able to the newly adopted Dude.
Oh, hell no. Don’t even try and don’t make me list the reasons why.
And… for the purposes of friendship, added for this post, a fourth:
I have a lot of dude friends. Always have. Hello? Tomboy. Dudes tend to be less melodramatic. I like that.
“It is the woman who chooses the man who will choose her.”
Paul Géraldy, French Poet