Spots & Stripes

One of my favorite moments in a cheesy movie is when Beatrice Stanhope gives George the stripes and spots speech in "George of the Jungle." (Yes, I freely admit I own it on DVD.) It's a classic moment, especially when it comes to the handling of meat in the scene.

I've often flip-flopped on who I might side with should I have been caught in the middle of that conversation. On one hand, almost every fairy tale out there tells the story of someone of humble origins falling in love with a prince or princess and marrying "up." The newly anointed royalty seal their storybook ending with a kiss and ride off into the sunset. (Or maybe that's just westerns. I digress.)

Can this really work, though? Can two people from such completely different worlds REALLY survive as a couple?

I guess it depends on how deep those differences really go. A once-poor girl (or boy), with the right manners and education, can often acclimate to the "upper class" quite well. And maybe she will actually feel like she belongs. Or maybe she'll always feel like she's living on another planet, never quite at home. I should know - I'm one of those once-poor girls. (Most of the time, I feel like I'm sandwiched between Thurston Howell the Third and the Dukes of Hazzard.)

What rarely works out is when the worlds two people currently live in seem to orbit different suns.

Despite my humble beginnings, I'm educated, well-raised and well-mannered. Thanks to those beginnings, I'm a quality over quantity kind of person. A little bit of spots, a little bit of stripes. (I might actually be a Dr. Suess character. Digressing again.) The world I live in is upper-middle-class America. My neighbors drive German cars and we all own houses big enough that my childhood home would fit into the bottom quarter of them. Our kids often have private coaches and attend the kind of schools where the majority of the students show up in designer clothes and $200 boots. (Exercising a modicum of sanity, I do NOT let my kid wear shoes that cost more than an average phone bill.) The breadwinners in my neighborhood work insane hours and the interior of every home is beautifully appointed. Parties are generally tame affairs replete with expensive wines and foreign cheeses. Little girls' birthday parties involve mani- pedi's and 4-figure decorations.

Thanks to the magic of online dating, I frequently hear from men still living back in that "humble" part of the world. They hunt, fish and drink cheap beer for fun. They drive pick-up trucks with giant wheels and live in houses that can be hooked up to the backs of those trucks and moved at any time. Their education rarely exceeds the twelfth grade. Their greeting usually involves the line "You're so purty." (Okay, most of the time they spell it right but the accent is implied by the cowboy hat, pointy-toed boots and camo pants.)

The reason I generally tell them "no thanks" is not because their home has metal sides or their clothes came from the same store where they picked up toilet paper and motor oil. I say it because we speak completely different languages. Frankly, I don't understand half of what their online profiles are trying to convey. I don't see anything we have in common, either. While I am by no means a snob, I'd stick out like a sore thumb at a fishing tournament. I'd also be bored out of my mind.

On the flip side, I don't see a guy who enjoys spending his time watching Nascar races and bass fishing on TV between trailer BBQs and country music festivals feeling super comfortable at a black-tie charity gala or even my company's holiday formal in the snooty part of town. We probably wouldn't have much to talk about, either, given my version of a political discussion involves a deep understanding of macro-economics and geo-political science rather than the traditional "Rep-tard" vs. "Dummycrats" discussions that seem to incomprehensibly find their way onto social media threads I follow.

Does that mean there are no men outside my educated suburban lifestyle that might be interesting or enlightening? No. But it does mean that sometimes there's a canyon between worlds that can be extraordinarily difficult to cross, only to find a pile of dirt on the other side.

So, I don't know if I'm a stripe or a spot, but I do know that regardless of which species I belong to, it does little good to intermingle if we have absolutely nothing in common. We might be able to overcome a fine wine vs. domestic beer disagreement, but a lack of commonality across the board is likely too much to combat simply because that girl in the spots looks awfully purty in them. Gentlemen, rather than feeling offended I passed you by because your education and social circle don't match up to mine, thank your lucky stars I said no and you didn't need to carry a dictionary to converse with me. (I will do the same.) If you want to be successful with online dating, take a moment to read a profile. If you don't get more than 50% of what the writer is talking about, move on. I assure you, there are plenty of lovely ladies out there who would really enjoy huntin' and fishin' with you.