Not a Southern Belle

Not me

When life starts sucking, as it has lately, I start thinking about moving back to North Carolina. I miss the mountains, I miss the relaxed lifestyle and I miss my friends. Then I think about all the reasons I was so ready to leave, and I remember why up and moving is not a good idea at all.

There’s the job market, yes, the small town mentality, yes. But among these valid problems that would accompany my mountain escape is a challenge that’s a bit less legitimate. Southern boys just aren’t that into me.

About a year ago, I had an epiphany. I didn’t have many “official” boyfriends in college in North Carolina, but I had quite a few situations that would fall under the “it’s complicated” category, if we’re speaking the language of Facebook. There’d be a mutual attraction, a mutual sense of caring for each other, we’d spend a couple nights a week together, hang out in social situations, etc. But when it came down to a relationship, they would have none of that.

But that’s just an early 20’s guy thing, right? Wrong. Every one of these guys ended up, later, in a serious relationship with someone who wasn’t me.

Naturally, when I discovered the pattern, I worried. What made me so undatable? I knew there couldn’t be anything repulsive about me. After all, I had no problem finding guys who liked me, who wanted to spend time with me, talk to me and be physical with me. I knew it wasn’t that I was stupid or boring. I am very attuned to peoples’ interests, and I can tell the moment I’ve caught someone’s attention.

So what was it? Well, as you’ve probably gathered by now (and if you haven’t, please check to make sure you have a pulse), I have a lot of opinions. I have opinions and I have beliefs, and I don’t just keep them to myself. I’m not loud, I’m not obnoxious, and I have manners. But when the time and place are appropriate, I speak my mind. Not exactly the central quality of the Southern Belle, which is every Southern guy’s dream girl. Southern Belles have the fascinating ability to provide meaningful commentary to football conversation while concentrating on picking the appropriate Lilly Pulitzer sundress and pearls from their collection.

They’re often spunky, but Southern Belles don’t talk back. The perfect Southern Belle doesn’t dump you when you treat her badly, and she forgives you when you take advantage of her accommodating nature one too many times.

But not me! While I am plenty feminine, I’m much more likely to covet the clothes I see on the models in Vogue than the clothes on the models in Better Homes and Gardens. I speak my mind, I don’t like football, and in a lot of ways I might even be too low maintenance. And that is a scary, scary thing for a Southern man to grapple with.

Believe me, I’ve tried. While I was with an old boyfriend, I even toned down my potty mouth and stopped cursing altogether. I added a few polo shirts to my wardrobe, and I even went shopping for Sperry’s! But we still broke up when I couldn’t deal with not being a priority anymore. Now he dates this quiet little girl with a quiet little voice who was born and raised in North Carolina.

It even carried over when I returned to urban life, away from the South. That guy who met “the one?” He was originally from the South. Take a wild guess where “the one” was originally from… that’s right, the South.

So I guess my Yankee personality intrigues those Southerners, but they don’t want to have a Yankee around forever. They want to sleep with Yankees and marry the Belles. Such is my loss.

In case you don’t get it by now, here’s the best way I can explain it. I was involved with a guy in college, a North Carolina native, who once told me he couldn’t wait for the weather to get warm. Not because he wanted to play baseball, not because he wanted to enjoy the outdoors—he just wanted to be able to think about me in a sundress with no panties. And no, I didn’t make that up.