Are we shallow?

When I was in Spain over Intersession, I hit it off with an aspiring DJ who wore a backwards cap, oversized athletic gear and a heavy gold chain — a far cry from my typical future academic or doctor who seems either corduroy-obsessed or colorblind. As I danced with him I could hear my dad's voice asking, "What school did he attend? Is he getting a real job someday?" Then I wondered, has that become my voice?

Although most people I know are single, the numbers are shifting, and before we know it a significant other will be as expected as a salary, and we'll need a date just to leave the house.

As we transition into this mode, people are becoming more particular about who they will consent to date. My Protestant friends argue over whether Catholics are dateable, others regularly debate about age and culture differences, and various friends have declared environmentalists, Republicans and state school graduates to be out of the question. We are also becoming more sensitive about how others will judge us. Girls tend to complain about guys who don't look twice at a plain girl, or are unduly taken with beauty at the expense of other traits. But are our own standards so profound?

"I'm a success whore," confesses a close female friend. She admits to a weakness for physics majors from Yale, preferably musical prodigies. A former hall mate has discarded her "naive" ideals of yesteryear, because she only wants "someone over six feet tall with a strong jaw line, with excellent prospects of making millions a year." Other friends have realized in hindsight that if certain guys had not been uncommonly talented, those relationships would have ended much sooner. Staggering credentials overshadow bland personalities, lukewarm chemistry or severe character flaws. "But he's a Rhodes finalist," a classmate said, after I suggested that she dump the cheater.

And who wouldn't feel flattered to date someone who's played in Carnegie Hall, published a book, founded an orphanage, discovered a drug and pays his own tuition from a business on the side? The interest of accomplished, talented men inflates our vanity, reassuring us that we share those traits. Surely, the so-called brightest women of our generation shouldn't have to settle for less — and this expectation doesn't just come from girls. A male acquaintance recently told me, "If you don't marry someone who's extremely successful financially, or relatively famous, I'd consider it a disappointing match." I laughed before realizing he wasn't joking.

My only serious relationship was with a warm, unpretentious guy impervious to the frenzy over income brackets, fashion trends and the accumulation of status-affirming items. He would probably lose in a bragging contest between girls, yet among flashy superstars he's the only significant guy in my romantic history. You would think I'd thus be less susceptible to superficial factors, but you know you take your criteria too seriously when you assume others have the same ones. As my ex-boyfriend and I caught up recently, I found myself — much to my horror — exclaiming about a potential romantic interest, "He would never date me! He doesn't think I'm brilliant, and he's more well-read than I am!" My ex-boyfriend's amused look said it all: I had become corrupted.

I'll never see that guy from Spain again. Should I feel guilty about rejecting him for being academically mediocre, for not dressing a certain way, for not pursuing a specific lifestyle? What about the outstanding personal traits that he could have had? Even the most brilliant guy isn't worth it without a strong moral sense and a generous heart, among other qualities. But are we being foolish in thinking we can hold out for someone who has it all?

"Brilliance is the minimum requirement, but it's not sufficient," notes a friend who believes that brains — along with money, height, good looks and a killer resume — should be a matter of course. "After eliminating over 95 percent of the male population, you still need to be very picky about who's left, especially because most guys are really shallow." Julie Park is an English major from Wayne, N.J. She can be reached at jypark@princeton.edu.