The perfect man

Auguste Rodin - The Kiss

The perfect one is tall, so that I can wear heels and be no taller than his height.

And so that he could pick me up. Extra points for picking up! I’m so shy that I get mortified whenever guys offer to lift me up on concerts. Okay, scratch that, I get mortified whenever guys look at me with that happy, tail-wagging-Lab-puppy face. I secretly love it when they ask to anyway, or offer for me to sit on their lap when they want to cuddle or when there aren’t empty seats left, but, I get so red just thinking, that I decline. Until the day someone simply lifted me up to kiss me.  It took me completely by a surprise. Sigh. Yeah, I’m kinda into macho men with an attitude, I know.

Also, he has to have good manners. As in, table manners, treating everyone well, knowing how to speak to older people/the waiter/his boss, and avoiding disgusting things, at least in front of me (like picking his nose and not washing his hand, on top of that). Politeness is so underrated these days…

Beign reasonably good-looking also doesn’t hurt. I mean, you don’t have to be something like Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt’s lab-enhanced lovechild, or muscular. Just don’t be a scrawny grown up that spent his childhood/teenage years inside playing video games and never developed. OR a bulky, weird thing that looks bizarrely like Johnny Bravo or a popscicle, with huge arms and ridiculously thin legs!

Of course, looking good and being dumb as a rock is kinda buzzkill. In the long run, looks alone get you nowhere. Especially since one of the things that really get me hooked is the conversation. Even more if he makes me laugh. EVEN more when he can laugh at himself! There’s hardly anything better than a guy that’s confident enough to make fun of himself in public! Yeah, in the long run, I have a tendency of choosing brains.

Oh, and PLEASE none of the waving money around, look-at-me-I’m-so-special crap. He can show off a little in video games and sports to his friends, as long as it’s all fun between friends. No one can stand big-headed, snobbish people. And people desperately trying to be cool past their 20s.

No jealous bitching either! What the hell happened to trust these days?! No scenes in public, no trying to tell me what to do or who I can and can’t be friends with  (believe me, I really don’t take being bossed around well), and no clinging. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know. No mind games, too.

Oh! Initiative. And attitude. It’s not because I’m independent that I don’t appreciate the feeling of safety we get when a guy takes charge sometimes. Like, making a way through crowds as he takes us by our hands, or staying close by when there’s creepy people around (I’m a creep-magnet). See second paragraph for further information. I can push my way through crowds better than many guys, I have no problem using my elbows in rock concerts, and I’m kinda of used to handling weird/crazy people and looking after myself. Still, it’s nice being able to take a break once in a while.

It’s okay not to have the large, sexy hands with veins popping, or that prominent hipbone + sixpack combo. I don’t care if you wear glasses and can’t play the guitar – as long as you don’t try to play a harmonica to me, we’re cool. And I really don’t care if my children will have clear eyes or not. I don’t give a damn about cars, brands and gifts. It’s just stuff, anyway. Even grades. Just have a detectable level of consideration, be able to carry a conversation that doesn’t include sports/guns/cars/celebrities or any of that superficial crap, or simply be able to enjoy a comfortable silence. Be honestly interested in me as an individual, too, in what I think or what I do, in what I’m into. Go ahead and check the other women out – as long as you do it descreetly and not behind my back. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and, should the time come when you want to leave, just please make sure you tell me before you do.

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~ by 1cellinthesea on November 29, 2011.

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