Since birth, women have been warned to steer clear of certain types of men. An argument could be made that such wisdom transmits from mother to daughter in the womb, DNA-style, as it seems that we all enter this world with an embedded radar to sniff out troublesome personalities. (Granted, some of us lack the signal strength to avoid these men entirely, but alas. The framework exists.)
So what about the men who appear brilliantly wonderful on the surface? Genuine (apparent) gene pool winners, they display a handful of amazing qualities on date #1 that subsequently send women furiously beginning group texts in the car ride home, informing her 5 closest girlfriends that she has found The One.
I liken these men to cigarettes in the 1960's.
Highly addictive? Oh, yes.
Bad for us? Possibly.
Even when the Surgeon General tossed that black and white label on cartons in 1965, that didn't really stop the smoking craze. The data was out there, but the addiction? Still wildly real.
After the first few dates with Warning Label men, we crave a return to those initial nicotine hits - even though certain things about them now scream cancer-inducing. We find ourselves caught in between a temporary fix and the awareness that long-term, they're less than healthy for us.
The Placater
On the surface: He's kind! And agreeable! And did we mention kind? Placaters tend to have hearts of gold, and this quality remains their shining attribute early on.
Deep down: It's evident, perhaps as early as date #2, as you're discussing current events or even (god forbid) politics, that he lacks an opinion. Or at least works quite hard to conceal it. Nodding furiously as you speak, the Placater wishes for nothing more than to be a perfect match for you. Outside of conversation land, he offers to run errands, hold your purse while shopping, and generally anything else under the sun that resembles a chore or household fix. When you're upset, he moves heaven and earth to make you feel better.
And all of this feels terrible.
Terrible that you are less attracted to him now, because despite his sweet nature and gentle heart, he lacks a backbone. Which is a necessity in any relationship in order to uphold a foundation based upon honesty and authenticity. The lack of voice becomes a true problem as time goes on. But he's so sweet, you'll tell yourself, in the midst of wondering if this man has any opinion about anything, whatsoever.
Put the cigarette down. Long term, it's not worth it.
The Conveniently Emotional
On the surface: Asks how you feel, and actually listens to the answer. Sheds a tear or two during Forrest Gump. Pens thoughtful, unexpected texts to show he cares.
Deep down: He's great at superficial emotion, because it doesn't take much effort. I would also argue that this man has honed in on the gold mine that is connecting with the opposite sex emotionally in order to get what he wants.
Read: he has so very skillfully mastered the art of getting women into bed, that even the most hyper-aware female is left scratching her head in a state of confusion afterwards.
Cut to the moment when a difficult conversation must occur, or the refreshing newness of the relationship wears off at the 3 month mark, and these ever present heartstrings of his are MIA. In a nutshell, when placed in a position where he has no vested interest in the outcome (or, doesn't foresee any sexual activity occurring in the near future), the Conveniently Emotional becomes Conveniently Detached.
You'll wonder if this is a temporary glitch, and will tell yourself that his sensitive nature is only on a brief hiatus. (Like a male version of PMS.) Alas, with this type of man, the glimpses of emotional intelligence are just that - brief glimpses, when they serve him best.
Put the cigarette down. Long term, it's not worth it.
The Wild Adventurer
On the surface: A façade adorned with an insatiable wanderlust and thirst for life. His fiercely mysterious personality challenges everyone in his path to wonder if they, too, are living as fully as possible.
Deep down: The thrill and exhilaration surrounding his nomadic tendencies dwindles when the inevitable realization occurs: just as he cannot tie himself to places, he cannot tie himself to people.
In any capacity.
Your interactions with this man will offer immense excitement, yes, but at a cost. His struggle to identify which couch(es) he will sleep on during SXSW parallels his inability to determine which people (if any) are worthy of remaining in his life permanently.
You'll enter his world and exit it in one fell swoop, struck by the whirlwind of romance and passion, but left overwhelmed by its jarring transience. Most of all, the nagging voice inside will ask - probably more than once - how can I get the good part back?
Put the cigarette down. Long term, it's not worth it.
The Selective Intellectual
On the surface: Well spoken, insightful, and intelligent. His date-worthy sound bites scream "I went to Harvard on a full-ride", and analysis of the Electoral College proves butterfly-inducing.
Deep down: It's almost as though the Selective Intellectual has DVR'ed enough episodes of Jeopardy to appear knowledgeable in small doses, but once certain hot topics dwindle and he's left to his own devices, the truth comes out.
And it's not a pretty one.
Similar to the Placater, this man just wants to be liked - and will go to great (dishonest) lengths to make that happen. He lacks an interest to learn for learning's sake, as his curious mind begins to shut down when both (a) not in the company of people he needs to impress and (b) outside of a situation that could potentially win him points.
Sort of like a parrot who has been handed an Encyclopedia. The squawking of random facts, while refreshing in the beginning, will grow tiresome and fairly transparent. Quickly.
Put the cigarette down. Long term, it's not worth it.
The One Still Tied to His Mother's Umbilical Cord
On the surface: Respectful and caring. And close with his mom. Which is a significant plus to all women, especially since we're all told since grade school to "find a man who loves his mother".
Deep down: Like all emotions, love exists on a wide spectrum. For these men, when it comes to Mom, they are teetering off the edge of said spectrum and on the verge of a deep-end crash.
Despite the fact that they're full grown men, Mom exists on a pedestal. A sort of bizarre pedestal, in which she can do no wrong, and all other women pale in comparison to her greatness. This might become obvious in subtle ways. Or less than subtle, in the off-chance he watches you fold clothes, make a bed, or prepare dinner. If the dreaded phrase "my mom does it ______way" emerges from his mouth, you'll know you've reached Umbilical Cord territory.
To those women attempting a relationship with this man: best of luck. Enjoy the ride.
Also?
Put that cigarette down. Long term, it's just not worth it.
***
Which brings me to what is worth it: an awareness that the antithesis of these 5 creatures does, in fact, exist. (Somewhere out there.)
And with lighters down, radars on, and eyes open - we have a damn good chance of finding them.