Having Fancy Degrees and Dating

I’ve had this post bookmarked for ages: She Got A Big Ego?: Thoughts on Dating With a Doctorate because it resonated for me even though I don’t have a doctorate and am not Black.

It still raised interesting points for me as a white woman with a few fancy degrees under her belt.  (And whose undergrad majors included psychology and anthropology, which were referred to as “fuzzy” subjects at my lovely alma mater.)

I, too, have had those conversations with men where they seemed intent on showing me just how smart they were.  Conversations that, quite frankly, just annoy me.  I’m not a facts and figures person.  I’m a concepts person.

I suck at Trivial Pursuit.  I misremember shit all the time.  Was that a 1098 form or a 1099?  Who cares?  Did it change my point?  I’ll go look it up if it matters.

And do I really want to engage in some game of one-upmanship with a guy that I’m trying to get to know?  Nope.

But when men find out about those lovely degrees from those fancy schmancy schools and that high-powered career, they suddenly fall back on this need to prove themselves.

Problem is, correcting everything I say or burying me in minutiae doesn’t show me how smart a guy is.  It shows me he’s annoying and insecure.

Analyzing a complex issue from multiple sides?  Now THAT impresses me.  Seeing the nuance and variety in things?  That too.

Appreciating people of all types even if they’re very different from him?  YES.

I think that’s why many of the men that I’ve most enjoyed dating were not intellectuals or highly educated.

Don’t get me wrong.  They were SMART.  Hella smart.  We could talk about anything and everything.  And if they didn’t know something, they were willing to admit it and still smart enough to analyze the situation and give sound advice.

Of the top two I can think of right now, neither one had gone to college.

Didn’t change the fact that I enjoyed spending hours talking to them.  (And a lot more than I enjoyed talking to some of those guys that I sat in classrooms with every day who now have their own fancy schmancy degrees.)

Who knows?  Maybe this goes back to the fact that I’m just a trailer park queen at heart no matter how far away I go.

But for me, a relationship is about compatibility not competition.

This is why in Don’t Be a Douchebag I encourage men to be themselves and be confident that they deserve to be with that woman.  It isn’t about money or degrees.  It’s about who you are inside.

(Now, that’s not true for every woman.  It is for me.  But some women are all about what they can tell everyone else.  “He went to Harvard and works as a hedge fund manager.”  For women like that, well, if you don’t have it you don’t have it.  So, move on.  And if you do have it?  Maybe you should consider whether that’s the type of woman you want to be with.)

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