Whilst flicking through the paper yesterday an article called “Meet Mr Perfect” caught my eye.
It’s all very well me sitting here and pretending that selling my house and publishing my writing are joint top of my agenda, they are MOST of the time, but there are a few moments every day when I have this recurring thought, I wonder IF I will ever meet someone else?
When my friends’ husbands are causing them minor grief I chant my mantra
“I don’t need a man, do I?”
They shake their heads sagely in agreement but I know, that they know, I don’t wholeheartedly mean it.
So today’s post is just a bit of fun, because there really hasn’t been much around here lately. I know I’ve turned a corner and things are looking brighter but let’s have a real giggle – probably at my expense and these words will come back to haunt me, but life’s too short to care about that.
So this article in the paper had a perfect man checklist, 30 criteria such a fine specimen should possess. I won’t list them all but here are a few
- 6 foot tall
- Muscly, toned and athletic
- Brown eyes
- Loves shopping
- Eats meat
- Drives an Audi
- Can swim
- Gets ready in 17 minutes
- Rings his mother regularly
Now I haven’t listed them in any particular order and neither have I picked out the criteria I most hold dear. Personally I don’t care if he drives a Skoda, I do so what’s wrong with that? But I would like a meat eater, my dad was a butcher and remains steadfastly suspicious of vegetarians.
The height, build and brown eyes? Yes please, Andrew had dirty blue eyes and although I loved looking into those stagnant pools of his I quite fancy the idea of staring into eyes the colour of melted chocolate next time.
On the whole Andrew wouldn’t have measured up too well with this list, hair too long, dress sense non-existent, didn’t watch soaps or love shopping.
There are lots of things I would have changed about him if I could but I don’t think those things would be top of my list. In so many ways he wasn’t a "perfect" man but that wasn’t down to what he wore, how long it took him to get ready or what car he drove.
He also “fails” because he wasn’t smooth chested. He didn’t have much of a hairy chest, it was uneven with more hairs on one side than the other and I adored it. I will confess a liking to an open necked shirt with a few stray hairs on show. I hasten to add this display must be on the right man, it’s an added extra not the first thing I go looking for!
I’m wary of these men that wax, it’s far too feminine for me. I’m not saying I want a full on Magnum P.I. chest, I remember that turning my stomach as a teenager, but I’ve matured, I want a man who looks like a man and acts like one. Not one that watches soaps and takes longer in the bathroom than I do.
In the paper there were 4 examples of these “perfect” men each with a fabulous score of 28 or 29 out of 30. Looking again at their photos I’m sorry to say none of them make me go weak at the knees. So maybe I should draw up my own list.
OK so I already have one I prepared earlier and besides the usual height and looks criteria are some interesting specifications, for instance my perfect man must play the guitar and write me a song, must read novels and agree with me that Star Wars is a love story disguised as science fiction.
Unlikely? Unrealistic? Impossible?
So what if he does only live in my dreams.
It doesn’t hurt to have a list, a preference. Ultimately falling in love is a compromise; no one can ever meet all my crazy requirements.
Maybe that is the reason I gave up with on-line dating you cannot create your perfect person from a list of desires. There's an added ingredient needed that's unquantifiable.
One day, hopefully, there will be a spark, out of the blue and it will start with a smile, then a laugh and I’ll find out he can’t play the guitar and it won’t matter in the slightest because never mind the list, he’s practically perfect!