The Pussyfooter

When a football player wins a championship game, the morning after does he suddenly decide he is no longer interested in football? Is the thrill and excitement and passion gone? Probably not. He probably takes a vacation to celebrate, spends a week recovering from celebrating, and then begins training to win another championship.

So why, after the challenge of winning a girl over, does a guy suddenly lose interest? There’s some subconscious block we (being the single people of the nation) have all seemed to develop that prevents us from being able to be happy with what we have. 

Most of my girlfriends fall for the Pussyfooter. The title is altogether too fitting; the unattentive, unresponsive, neglectful, noncommittal, creep who avoids, avoids, avoids. You meet him and instantly hit it off. The conversation is good, he’s adorable, he’s holding your hand under the table and kissing you on the sly even though his friends are right there. You hear wedding bells when he asks for your number and go to bed thinking about how cute it was when he walked you to your doorstep.

Women are really good at playing cool in the first few days following a PNB (prospective new boyfriend). We wait for him to contact us, don’t send crazy texts at all hours of the day… because lets be honest, we’re cool, even-tempered, level headed, busy social butterflies that haven’t even had a second to send a text let alone THINK of the Pussyfooter we met the night before. I wonder if our cover is blown when he finally contacts us and we reply within 3 minutes. I like to think men aren’t smart enough to figure that one out.

So he asks you out again, you pretend to clear your schedule to make time for him… and that night, in the soft glow of sauvignon blanc, you realize that this is for real. He is looking into your eyes and listening to you as you speak, you’re laughing at everything and hanging onto every word that comes out of his mouth. Has it been two days or two years? Have I finally met “the one”?

No. Because the next day when he is slipping out of your apartment at 9am, that is the last you will see of him. Everything comes to a screeching halt and you’re left there in an empty bed, smeared mascara under your eyes, wondering… what the f!*% just happened.

So now you’re in too deep. You’re buried in the two days you spent with him and the sadness of your unfulfilled expectations. You ask your girlfriends what happened… to explain to you what you did wrong.. and we all sit at the brunch table in silent shock, frantically trying to come up with one good reason. The real truth? There isn’t a good reason. There are a million reasons why people’s feelings change. And are we sad because we lost them or because they didn’t choose us? At what point does the end of our two day affair stop being about who this Pussyfooter is and become about losing? I’d probably say at least 75% of the time.

So after this happens 1, 2, 3.. 35 times, we have built a complex. We lay our heads down to sleep and toss and turn with the thought “why does no one want me?” But is that what is really happening?

Chances are you have complained in the last month at one point about a guy who will NOT leave you alone. “He texts me every day!” “Why is he such a girl?” “I haven’t replied in a week… why does he still want to see me?”

Why? Because you, my friend, are his pussyfooter. Men have been conditioned the same way. So, here you have a guy who actually wants to be with you; to spend time with you, to take a chance on you… and instead you are lying in your bed crying that you’ll never meet anyone.

If we all want those we can't have, how will anyone ever end up together?

My advice? We all need to stop being pussies.

Be honest with yourself about what you want and protect yourself until you know the other person wants the same. 

........Or... If you're smart enough to pull it off....Pussyfoot the one you want.