Should women sacrifice themselves to find true love?
When I first crept onto a stage in college to perform in a comedy show, I discovered a feeling of elation that has yet to meet its match. I kept thinking – people actually paid money to come see me have the time of my life? But after the show, a guy I was dating could only manage to mumble, “Why would you want to do that? Don’t you feel embarrassed making jokes about your personal life in front of strangers?”
As much as I adored him, I knew we weren’t meant to be. He could never understand that being funny – in front of strangers – was what made me me. (And in case you’re wondering, I didn’t say a word on stage about him or his … shortcomings.)
To me, sharing my life and my comedy on stage isn’t embarrassing. It’s honest. And as I learned very quickly, the “truthier” my material, the stronger my connection with my audiences.
In an age of personal blogs, Facebook updates and Twitter accounts, we’re all broadcasting our personal lives to random strangers these days. But does all that oversharing hinder our chances of meeting “the one?”
Mandy Stadtmiller – staff writer for the New York Post, incredibly funny comic and one “bad-the-hell-ass” lady – recently tackled this very question on her blog. She shares some wise insight on why women should never sacrifice their essence to find romance, partnership and love:
“It actually is possible to be hilarious, be sexy, be sexual, be bold, be adventurous, be ballsy, be intelligent, be in the public spotlight and also be a darling, true family person,” she writes.
“I think the greatest things in my life have come from chronicling all that this life has to offer. The beauty, the horror, the pain, the joy, the hilarity, the absurdity, the amazement. It’s reaching out to all the people, all around the world, who read me. It’s spinning a story, it’s expressing a tale of the human condition. I have to do this.”
I have to do this.
For me, “this” is writing funny stuff and sharing it with the world. For you, “this” might be wearing pink spandex. Whatever “this” is – I hope you’ll keep doing it. No matter how much the guy – or that future awesometown guy – might disapprove. Because without “this” – what’s left?
When I first started writing a comedic column about my dating life, another male friend helpfully pointed out: “Carrie, it would seem your personal life and your professional life are now at cross purposes.”
He has a good point. The worse my dating life, the better material I have for my column the next morning. But I honestly don’t look at it that way. Perhaps it’s the Nebraska in me, but I can’t help feeling optimistic and hopeful before each date. There’s always a little sliver of hope that this one, this time, might be the one. And when, per usual, the guys wave their crazy flags (Holocaust denier, anyone?) – that’s cool, too. At least I’ve got something to write about that week.
But you know what? When the guys turn out fantastic and sexy and brilliant, I write about that as well. Not in a way that identifies them or makes them feel uncomfortable (fingers crossed). But in a way that honors the “beauty, the horror, the pain, the joy, the hilarity, the absurdity, the amazement” that is life.
Have you ever given up something you loved to try to please a man?
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