But after more than a decade in Philadelphia, the question has begun to take on a new meaning, one that says a lot about the person asking. Sure, often it's benign chatter, but sometimes it takes a more insidious turn, particularly amongst single men well into their thirties and forties.
A few months ago I went on a date with a nice enough guy. Early forties, very put together, attractive, smart.
Great.
Then came the dreaded question. As someone who doesn't really care what any potential boyfriend does for a living as long as he's happy, I was upfront and honest. To be fair, the question still doesn't bother me. In fact when it rears its head it's a good opportunity to gauge the asker's reaction. If my professional position is a deal breaker to someone, that's a deal breaker for me.
For this particular man, it was apparently a deal breaker. As soon as I said the words, "laid off," he gave the signature look. The one that says, "how do I get out of this date?" After about fifteen more minutes of awkwardly forced conversation, he was out the door.
Fine, right? On to the next OKCupid profile.
But why is it that way? Why does it matter, especially to older, single men? The surface answer is obvious. As we approach middle age, still single, we don't want to waste time with potential problems from the very start and we're less likely to take risks.
But one deeper issue may be that many men well into their thirties and forties have already built a perfectly successful life around an empty nest. The perfect house, the perfect job, the perfect dog, so naturally one wants the perfect man. Unfortunately with such perfection meticulously constructed around oneself, the perfect man can't be anymore dynamic than the perfect car.
Husband hunting becomes sofa shopping.
Problems will arise in any relationship and younger generations seem to understand this. Or at least their inexperience allows them to blissfully fall into less than perfect relationships, ultimately learning to tackle things like sickness and unemployment when they arise.
What happens to those cynically seeking perfection, or those who find a candidate with the perfect resume, when they finally realize that perfection doesn't exist? Those who've built the perfect life around themselves may have the biggest baggage. After all, love isn't a career or that Eames Lounge chair you can finally afford.
It's four dimensional, it's messy, and it rarely makes sense. Perhaps the quest for perfection means one has simply given up on finding true romance, opting for lavish European vacations that provide all the quantifiable elements of what love looks like, without the qualities that can be found on a simple weekend getaway to the Poconos.
Maybe some have even lost sight of the Hollywood illusion. Maybe some really are looking for the perfect man who matches their drapes. But even if one is looking for that perfect accessory in human form, chances are the candidate already has his own perfect house, perfect car, and perfect job. In that case, one's best hope is to find a partner in the most mundanely professional sense of the word. Freedom to Marry just became a business contract.
Love is risky, it's rooted in silt, and more often than not, it's scary. Those aren't attributes that meld well with pragmatic ones like stability and success. If you are knowingly trading romantic bliss for six figure incomes and matching BMWs, own it. But if you think you're looking for love, don't be afraid to dive headfirst into that murky river. You might break your neck a few times, but eventually you'll find the spring.
Be less concerned about whether your date owns his own condo and more concerned with who that person really is, in every beautiful flaw.
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