I have just had a bit of good news; according to my dearest (and most exhausted) male friend, I have moved off the ‘unsellable list.’ Of course the bad news, is that I wasn’t aware that I was ever on said list in the first place.
Apparently blokes all over the world are aware of the list, and happily place us girls on it. As the name would suggest, it is not necessarily a list that you want to find yourself on…like most of the lists I am sure I am on, in different corners of the world.
The ‘unsellable’ are those of us who will never attract a man (insert sound effect: me gulping mug of wine.) This is the kind of bedtime story that Disney never produces for little girls, and right now I could use a little Cinderella propaganda.
According to my mate there are a variety of well thought out reasons why girls are placed on this list by guys, for their own good…male logic at its best.
The number one reason that a woman ends up on this list, is for being high maintenance (his actual were words were ‘psycho.’) High maintenance apparently has nothing to do with much money you earn, or how independent you are, but rather how much emotional effort a man will have to invest to keep you from spontaneously bursting into tears at regular intervals. I pointed out that the men we date often bring on these tears. This apparently is not an acceptable excuse, but I would guess that your football team losing is.
Other reasons we end up on the list include the ability of a woman to scare the hell out of a man by earning too much money and having a high profile job. These are not really an issue in my case. I should point out that my friend insists that men can also find themselves on the unsellable list (he says this in an attempt to stop me smacking him in the head,) although I doubt that it is because they earn too much money or for getting elected President. I should point out I am not a feminist (in fact I just had to spell check the word.)
My mate (now speaking very bravely) also explains that people can move on and off the unsellable list at different times, hence my ability to slide between ‘sellable’ and ‘unsellable.’ This is of course reassuring to a point, but the existence of said list gets me thinking (freaking out.)
I wonder whether to move off the list it is as simple as putting a big ‘for sale’ sign on our selves…but then I have a feeling that the low cut top I bought last week is indeed nothing but a ‘for sale’ sign. In fact as I look around the pub that I am writing this article in, I see that everyone around me has a for sale sign on, at least I hope this explains the outfit next to me. Or she may actually be for sale, which means I may need to hang out in a better class of pub. I like to think that over the last few years I have single handily brought down the W8 neighborhood, and that the outfit that I am now faced with is just another proof point of this.
I find myself all the more self-conscious when I am talking to men since I discovered the list’s existence. Before all I worried about was a guy imagining me naked (though nothing could be scarier than the truth), now I have to worry whether they are mentally putting me on a list. Maybe I am no longer upset that the closest I have come to picking up a man this week was ordering a drink from the barman. Although since I found out he was 21, I am surely on the unsellable list in his eyes…no matter how low cut my top is.