It was cute back then. She`s so smart, you`d tell your friends and family. Yes, she just got promoted. I`m so proud of her! you`d sing over your cubicle walls to anyone who would listen. And, boy, was she grateful. He`s so supportive, she`d gush to her friends over a second glass of chardonnay. For everyone involved, it was great.
After that promotion came another. You loved it: It validated your intelligence and good taste. Ah, the pride you took in her being yours. And there were other beneï¬ts. After work, while she was off doing whatever it is smart women do to get ahead, you had time to hit the gym, play a few rounds of golf, have a beer with your friends.
On your ultra-supportive days, you`d stop by that great little Thai place where she loves the dumplings and pick up dinner for the two of you. You`d have it all set and ready to eat when she ï¬nally got home. It was the least you could do for the one you love.
Then, the next big deal comes her way. She calls you, all excited, and wants to celebrate by going out to dinner. She suggests the place. You use the romantic candlelight to squint at the absurd prices on the menu, and you begin to sweat. As she orders a bottle of champagne, you cringe at the thought of the hit your wallet`s going to take.
When the check comes, you start to pray that your Visa won`t be declined. That`s when it happens: She grabs the bill, pulls out a blinding metallic-sheen credit card, and says, I`ve got it.
The words hit you like a platinum ï¬st. Your legs go limp, your throat tightens, your spine begins to decompose. You look at your beautiful woman. The soft candlelight has thrown her angelic features into near-sinister shadow. In what some experts call a moment of clarity, you realise she is more successful than you are.
This is what some other experts call a paradigm shift.
I call it the Oh crap factor.
For most women success is a difficult cross to bear. It will certainly repel it`s fair share of potential partners. Worn too brazenly, it can send even the strongest hunter in search of smaller game.
Thing is â€¦ successful women aren`t going away; they`re multiplying like low-carb beers. So you can wrap yourself in your favourite cashmere blankie (bought by her), wear your designer tighty-whities (bough by her), and cry yourself to sleep (all on your own). Or, you can reach down into those Christian Dior underpants and get singed by the hot coals of manhood that are still burning.
You see, successful women can`t resist a confident and intelligent man irrespective of his earning capacity or his company position.
So, put your damn pants back on, grab that beautiful bull by the horns (â€˜horns` is not a euphemism for anything), and see if your can handle a strong, ambitious, driven woman.
Start by allowing her to pay for dinner.
* I had to sit through 30 minutes of somebody explaining to me why I am so intimidating to him and probably all of his friends. The â€˜root of my problem` he said.
Problem?â€¦wasn`t aware I had a problem.