I am on the fence as to whether I despise or admire Lori Gottlieb, author of Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough. Although the book made some valid points for women who seek perfection in a mate, it also convinced women to look in the mirror and think we are plainer, dumber and less worthy than we really are. Of course, she didn’t spin it that way. I think the phrase she used was ‘be realistic’.

I gave her the benefit of the doubt and passed the book off as an entertaining read with a point of view that at least got me thinking, but not one that I took to heart. But now, Ms. Gottlieb strikes again with an article in July’s Marie Claire which argues that our best friends could be our worst enemies. She worries that we have too much unconditional support for each other. She warns that ‘a bit of consolation can balloon into a complex system of chronic ego-inflation’.  This is a problem? Why does Lori Gottlieb hate us?

Smart women can tell the difference between a true, supportive friend and someone who’s blowing smoke up their ass; and if they can’t, they probably don’t care about such things as chronic ego-inflation. My friends think I’m awesome, as they should. As I do them. Why have friends who tell you that you could stand to lose a few pounds, that you’re unattractive, that you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer? I mean, fuck me, we have parents and bosses, not to mention unwarranted opinions from strangers and our critical selves to knock us down without having to hear this from our friends too!

I don’t need to be coddled or have things sugarcoated, but if I’m having a bad day, I would like a friend that understands and wants to go for a drink versus someone that lists all the things I probably did to make the day bad and how my complaining is making it worse. It doesn’t mean my friend is enabling my disillusionment of the real world; because trust me, no amount of positive friend reinforcement could protect me from life’s untimely dilemmas and my inevitable fuck-ups, but is it too much for a gal to have a vodka and vent for a minute?

I think Ms. Gottlieb should discontinue her ‘self-help’ books and begin a greeting card line with such zingers as:

You got fired? No shocker there, as you are a dumbass.

He dumped you? Did it ever occur to you it’s because you’re uglier than him?

or

Congratulations on the promotion! Now if only you could get a man.

Maybe I’m being overly sensitive and her writing really has helped women see the light. Maybe this dose of reality has just yet to puncture my fantasy bubble and one day, I too will drink the Kool-Aid. The dose I got from He’s Just Not That Into You (a book Ms. Gottlieb describes in her article as ‘refreshing’!) didn’t really have any lightbulbs go on either, but it could be I’m a slow learner. Or, quite possibly my friends have inflated my ego to such an extent that I feel like I am justified in writing a blog equivalent to waving a middle finger in the air.

For a minute, I look at myself through her eyes and solemnly shake my head at my young, opinionated, self-absorbed way of thinking. I am privy to her reality: I’m not as talented as I’d like to believe. I need to be less selective in my search for a mate. And I should really allow the word ‘settle’ to be used as a solution, not a punishment.

Her reality is meant to shatter my self-delusion. Too bad my reality continues to prove that it’s not working.

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