why every woman should hold out for her duckie.

Timing really is everything.

A few days ago, my niece was so psyched to watch ‘Pretty in Pink’ as it was for the first time being shown on ‘Nick at Nite’. She said “Will you watch it with me?” OBV!!! One of my favorite films.

Once we began watching, she had a lot of questions. The one that struck me most was “Are the rich kids bad and the poor kids good?” Hmmm…are they? Well, in this film that is sort of the truth, but in real life, this is not necessarily true. People who have money often donate to charitable and worthy causes. They also sometimes pull Ponzi schemes on the population at large, so clearly, that’s up for interpretation. The same idea goes for people with lesser means. They can give their all to society by volunteering or just being genuinely good people, or they can beg, pillage, borrow or steal. But as we’ve seen, so can some of the rich.

“The answer isn’t that cut and dry” was the only response I could come up with. I could see that I was getting into uncharted territory with her at this point and did not want to take a misstep.

That very same morning a friend, being a good one at that, played matchmaker for me. She had just met her boyfriend’s unattached friend, and thought of me. Very sweet. Hey, why not give it a shot? Nothing to lose; perhaps something to gain? I don’t think I had ever before been this optimistic about anything. Totally Un-Tawny;)

So we began a virtual relationship of Blackberry BBM’ing, as this world we now live in requires of us. Within two hours of chatting, I pretty much knew (let’s for anonymity’s sake call him ‘Steph’) everything about Steph’s life. He didn’t ask me much about mine, which was fine as I didn’t care to divulge too much about myself at this point anyway. I discovered he went to a private boarding school, grew up in an affluent sector of Long Island, had a family real estate company, lived in an apartment with a beautiful view of the sound (trust me, it was beautiful,he sent me a pic), that he sailed, partied on boats, shot guns on the beach, enjoyed vacations only when they were overseas, and that he rarely came into Manhattan. And what did he know about me? Only that I was an unemployed blogger from Brooklyn.

He wanted to read our blog, so I gave him the URL so he could check out what we do. His less-than-enthusiastic feedback was unexpected. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but c’mon dude, you’ve “known” me for 4 hours. I’m all for constructive criticism…but seriously? Wooing 101: too much honesty is not always the best policy.

Either way, Steph was now on strike 2 3/4, fouling off ball after ball into the stands, only a smidgen away from being out. First off, I don’t like rich, self-satisfied pomposity, and second, I don’t like people who can’t discern the difference between candid and rude.

At this point, I hadn’t even seen a picture of Steph, but he’d had the opportunity to peek at mine through BBM. Now that he was a nanometer from strike 3, I needed a physical image of him. I definitely had a mental image at this point, but I wanted to align reality with imagination. I asked him for his last name. A friend request was sent via facebook and then accepted. I took a quick gander at his offerings and decided to still not fully judge a book by its khakis, I mean cover. At least at this point.

I didn’t hear back from him for over an hour. But then, the little red light on my blackberry went off. A BBM from Steph, admitting that he had been looking at my photos this entire time. Before I could even come back with a response to what a creeper comment that was, he went on to tell me that he felt that in 1/3 of my pictures, (he actually used a numeric figure that I’m self-consciously keeping to myself) I was actually cute. And that in 1/2 of my pictures, he actually liked my choice of wardrobe and style. I was blown away…and not in a good way.

“Are you for real with this? I mean are you seriously saying these things”, I asked. He clarified that he was and that perhaps he was being too open since he was on his 3rd scotch of the evening. “Wow, you’re really rude,” I said. His response? “Yes that’s me, now I have to watch the Gossip Girl I DVR’d”. Of course he watched GG. To what else could this man possibly relate?

It took just 10 seconds for me to delete him from my bbm contacts and defriend him on the omnipotent facebook.

I guess sometimes, people just don’t deserve chances. Sometimes, people need to earn your respect before you can give them the benefit of the doubt. And while sitting with my sister and niece as this was all happening, my sister looked at my niece and said, “Promise me one thing. Don’t ever let any man ever be mean or treat you with disrespect. Do you understand?” My 6 year old niece looked at me and then at her Mom and said, “I do understand Mommy.”

So, how come this cautionary tale has been shared with all of our Flaxen Tawny faithful?

The moral of the story, as trite as it may sound, is that it really doesn’t matter whether you’re wealthy or not. Worth is derived from what is inside a person, not what their money can or can’t buy. Sometimes the rich guy is going to be nice. Other times…maybe not.

People can be beautiful inside and out. Or inside and not outside. Or outside but not inside. And clothes can make us feel gorgeous and all, but it’s really what’s underneath that defines us. When you wake up in the morning, dress for you. Make that $3.99 sweater you found at the Salvation Army look hotter than that $195 cashmere J. Crew one. And own it. It doesn’t have to be expensive pink for it to be pretty.

Flaxen Tawny loves beautiful things, but as Flaxen’s favorite quote says:

“on n’aime pas celui q’on trouve beau, on trouve beau celui q’on aime.”

(we don’t find love in beautiful things, we find beauty in that which we love).

xo

FT

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