I’ve watched the unfolding drama of Tiger Woods with interest, as has much of the nation-not as a gossip monger, but a student of psychology. I’m keenly intrigued by the workings of the human mind. I’m also a female- a single female. Like many of us women, I’ve once dated a serial cheater.
And, mind you, I believed his lies. Not because they made any sense, but because I desperately wanted to. The rock star lifestyle he offered me and the sugary sweet promises were so tantalizing I dallied there- against logic and my own continually breaking heart.
Today I read about the Wall Street betting going on speculating the number of women entangled in Tiger’s den. The current betting figure is a final 24, though none are “confirmed”. Two of the press accountings of the ten alleged affairs are “mystery women”- known only by their occupations and locations. Some have “proof” that amounts to text or voice mail messages, (along with personal details), and several are lawyering up possibly in preparation to sell the story.
At least one woman reported that she believed she was “in love” with Tiger and had a special relationship. Even though these were the willing partners in an adulterous relationship, there is something about the wrong man that can derail our values, hopes and dreams.
I’ve got a daughter as old as a couple of these women involved. I’d like to think that even if a married celebrity showed up at her doorstep, she’d have the moral fiber to slam the door in his face based on my years of learning curve and success since. But given our culture’s get rich quick theme, pervasive love of money and amoral stance, I’d have to pray a lot for my kid to make the right choice.
There is another issue though, it’s the fairy tale we girls tell ourselves from the time we are young- the prince who appears and says the perfect things, thinks we are most lovely and is somehow kept from being with us. In most fairy tales, it ends with him finding a way to his beloved. It’s that final piece that keeps many women hanging onto what we should treat as gum stuck to our shoes. We should scrape it off and discard it. Instead we let him cling to us, ruining our stride in life by his attachment.
It’s painful and it’s ugly.
Likewise, I wouldn’t blame Tiger’s wife, Elin, either for using whatever implement at her disposal to extract a pound of flesh.
Being lied to is a hurtful thing. Discovering you’ve been living a lie, is a far more complex level of pain. A single affair is enough damage, but when coupled with the speculated series of Barbie doll-esque females lining up, Elin has got to feel emotionally and physically sick. I’m shocked she didn’t wedge a three iron into Tiger’s skull. Clearly she has a powerful swing.
There’s another factor here, though. One missed by the press. This is more than the story of a celebrity who fell on his face. It’ a tale that single and married women should hearken to.
We women, even in spite of decades striving for feminine equality and breaking the glass ceiling, don’t often emotionally live or think this equality.
Each of those women who got involved with Tiger had to know he was married. I mean, he was Tiger Woods, wasn’t he? A quick Google search and you’ll find more details about his elaborate, expensive wedding, kids and wife than you can read in a lifetime. How did he manage to persuade (if we are to believe the press) ten (or more)separate women into fooling around? And deceive his beautiful wife so long? From the looks of them, these females are attractive, intelligent and capable (I’ll stop short of calling the female porn star an entrepreneur because that’s another whole layer of psychology).
What’s up with that? Aren’t we women empowered enough to sort out the liars from the honest men? Don’t we want the best? Surely they each knew there would be no future with him. So why get involved? Haven’t we spent eons striving to be women of substance? Before we kick all these girls to the curb, I’d like to venture to say they are much like many of our friends, sisters, and even ourselves.
Here’s my short list of what married men will say. These are things we need to tell our daughters to be wary of and items we need to guard ourselves from:
- My wife’s not sexy anymore to me. (Implying of course, that you are sexy)
- We only stay together for the kids/money/health issues/property, etc.
- There is no physical intimacy with my wife. (Or she’s not interested in sex)
- My marriage has been over for years.
- She’s old/boring/fat/skinny/no fun.
- My wife doesn’t understand me.
If I had to margin a bet, we females, including this writer, have traded the reality for the fairy tale a time or two. When our worth is centered on attracting a man, instead of competing with a man as an equal, it’s defeating the purpose of feminine rights. It’s a blow not only for the individual females involved, but also for the rights we’ve collectively strived for.
Each woman involved in a less-than- best relationship is sending a message that we’ll take the crumbs of leftovers instead of feasting on a meal that actually feeds us. We’ll even trade our bodies for this opportunity. That fact makes me sad as a woman. I personally run into this a lot, in my Midwest region, with values that teach us we aren’t complete without a relationship. (As if I must apologize for being single by choice).
I’ve chosen to forge my own way and forgo the fantasy. But, admittedly, I too, had to wake up from the dream and make my reality. If we want adventure, ladies, we must make our own instead of taking it from Mr. Wrong. The same goes for money. As far as love, it’s hard to love yourself when you’re loving the wrong man or when your prince is the Prince of Immorality. It’s better to love ourselves and be alone for a time.
What we need to be teaching our daughters and embracing as our mantra is that we are not only equal to men when it comes to pay and jobs, we are also complete without a relationship. We need to shelf the idea that a prince charming will save us, emotionally and fiscally, and focus on saving ourselves. There will be less tabloid drama and fewer sisters that make heart wrenching choices.
I’ll not have a wealthy man jetting me to Australia, nor be partaking of the fruits of a rock star lifestyle. I struggle with money, work long hours, rack up medical bills and worry about debt. But when I lay my head on the pillow at night, I know I’m now using my female liberation as it was meant to be. I’m equal because I do not allow myself to treated second best.
(Apart from the recent news analogy, this is an excerpt of a book I’m writing on women in relationships. I’d welcome your comments)