I do not understand women. I want to. I’ve tried to. It’s so hard. I am not talking about understanding the complexities of her heart or knowing how to make her eyes smile when she just wants to show you her teeth. I understand how to make a woman feel beautiful with my words. I can get to know a females personality. What I am talking about is much harder to pin down.
For the life of me, keep ping up with what a chic looks like is impossible. I have known so many women who are 7’s (really cute) who put a filter on every photo they send me hoping I would think they were a ten. I’m gonna be real honest with you. By the time, we meet up, and I spend 20 minutes searching for her only to find a girl I don’t recognize. Well, now she’s gone from a 7 to a 10 to a 4. Impressive opening impression.
What choice does she have though? All of her friends know what she looks like. They’ve seen the pictures and the filters. They are to blame. Not me for calling it like a I see it. These girls adhere to some strict girl-code. They do not mention filters to friends, even if a person looks completely
Susan could say to Sally, “Um, Sal, he’s gonna know that you’re not 20 , with cheek bones higher than a giraffe stomach. At least, put some mascara on. Sure he knows your eye lashes aren’t 3 inches long, but what could it hurt?”
Nope, instead she’s like, “Yassssss, Queen! Post that pic that looks like a better looking version of your younger, plastic sister and watch him cry.”
If this was the end of the story, then we could go on with our lives and blame friends and girl-code. I think it goes deeper. I don’t think it even has to be a filter. Maybe, it’s my incredible beard that I put my security in. Maybe, I am just not gonna like myself no matter what I look like. I think it’s a self love problem. I think we like looking at ourselves through the filter, because we don’t like looking at ourselves without it. I think I filter myself for myself.
Guys have the same problem. I have the same problem. Filters can be great fun. I have laughed so hard at them, but when I receive all of my self-validation only from that; I may as well let Oscar Wilde write my story. In a world of self-doubt, I make myself Dorian Gray. You are not your filter. I am not my filter.
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