A girl’s gotta have standards…

By: Elizabeth Marie |

A couple weeks ago I spent a few frustrated hours at the beach late night style, by myself sitting in the dark. I worried my sister as she feared I would be abducted and end up on Dateline next month. I was thinking, talking to friends, texting and sending pictures of my feet in the sand to twitter.

High Standards

Standards, standards, standards…it was all I could think about. The standards to which I hold my friends, my parents, myself, men…probably why I’m single.

A girls gotta have standards though.

Are standards black and white? When do we make exceptions? In talking to a friend who shared a similar experience growing up, I realized that the standards I once held my father to have changed…have they lowered? No, I don’t think so. Have I realized that he’s not who I want him to be…but instead someone I can love, learn from, count on in a different way? Yes. If I let myself.

I have to keep my standards when it comes to matters of my heart though, a girls gotta.
You don’t get to choose your parents. But I will choose the next him. Hopefully the last him. I know I write about this a lot…and I fear gaining the reputation of sad single girl. I most def am not, trust when I say that meeting great guys is not the problem, but blogging is more to me than posting pictures…it’s a release. I know, as so many of you have told me, that when you know, you know, that it will happen when you least expect it, and I’m cool with that, really, I am.

I can’t help but wonder (hello Carrie Bradshaw, sorry), if my standards are TOO high. Is that even possible? I just hate that weird feeling, the red flags that so often I’ve ignored, the settling…the I KNEW YOU WOULD DO THAT fights, or thoughts..that have left me walking a mile down the Vegas strip alone at 3am in a mini and 5 inchers, being followed by creeps, afraid to call my friends or family for fear of the inevitable ” I told you so’s…” because I already told myself so. Nobody is harder on me…than me.

Standards. I’m sticking to my standards. They’re high. And when I meet him, and I just know, and it’s when I least expect it, I won’t have to lower them. If anything…he better raise me up, he’s gotta.

What are some of your standards?