| |
 Big strong hands, a six
pack, minks and diamonds... A Greek God, a Jaguar in the garage, and a nip
of humour... Oh ya. A man with a sense of humour. But no “puppos”
please. No straight boys. A
real man is what I need. Strong, intelligent, persuasive, witty and
sensitive, the list is endless. I don’t care if he regularly rendezvous
with his female side, just as long as he’s in touch with my male and
female side. He must know what to say, what to do, how to please me. And
is that easy? Really, a box of Ferrero Roche, dozens of flowers, not just
red roses (too cliché), maybe bunches of wild flowers, sunflowers and
daisies would do, vanilla scented candles (Ummm). I want a man who can
cook, at least Pasta and Chinese and oh, he must always do his steaks
medium rare and mine well done.
I want to be wooed. I want a fairy tale ending. It’s strange how
practical I can be in almost all facets of my life other than what I want
of a man, my man. Perhaps, I want perfection and idealism in a world, when
it doesn’t exist. Don’t condone me; I want it and I want it all. I
want to feel cherished. And I want to be a slave. I can slave after a man,
sure. But he has to be a strange mix of an angel and a devil; he’d
better have a dark side, some sense of BAD about him so I could respect
him. Women must figure among his passions, no man I want should be too
faithful. But once we’re together, I should be the most beautiful
creature to him; I want to be his goddess. I want to vie for his
attention, I want women to swoon over him, pay him attention and envy me,
when all along he should truly only want me. I want an unconventional man,
a rebel but when it comes to earning and providing, he must be the Breadwinner, and must he pamper me.  Incidentally, with this in mind,
diamonds would be nice (not limited to an engagement ring), trips abroad,
to South Africa, the Seychelles and Egypt would be nice. Ambition. A man
has just got to be ambitious. No compromise on that. He must enjoy his
work, enjoy a brilliant reputation, he must be someone soon because (as
Melissa Tomay said in My Cousin Vinnie) “my biological clock keeps
ticking away” and I can’t wait. And
he’s got to fully realize his potential. Of course, I’ll gauge whether
he really has the potential or not.
He’s got to be
hardworking, even a workaholic as long as he spends quality time with me,
and as long as he knows how to relax. We could always travel, go to the
Opera (we’d need air tickets to Italy first), critique good literature,
swim in our pool, or play a game of golf for that.
 I want a man to be
charming, to family, my friends and me. If there’s a crisis, he should
always be there to shoulder the responsibility. He should be strong; the
kind you feel is in charge. When we go out, especially with my friends, he
should open the doors to his car, pay them all individual attention, and
of course handle the
cheque. What art a man, if not chivalrous? Oh, and
he’s got to be social, not a tacky PR man. But, he must know how to make
and use contacts, without losing dignity. I want to party, so he’d
better too, at least twice a month, I’d like to play host, and throw
parties, the talk of the town. But, there has to be intelligence and depth
to him. A man who can talk politics, feel that he can achieve a lot,
appreciate good art (paintings or else), be knowledgeable, read good books
(NOT Have stopped at Hardy boys), and educate me. Yes, I want a man to
make me feel a little less than him, but treat me as an equal. He must
know how to handle me, humor me when I throw fits over silly things, and
be compassionate over serious issues. And how is he to know? Obviously,
he’d have to have good judgement and be perceptive. I want a man who is
independent. His life should be his and mine, to the exclusion of all
others. But, he must treat his parents with respect and tenderness,
because I fear, how he will treat mine. He’s got to be generous with his
money, as his money is ours and mine is only mine, and that of my (our)
children. He’d better be a good saver, because I don’t want to have to
plan, it’s too tedious, besides I want to enjoy my life and not worry
too much. After all, God made me a woman and told Adam’s son, to slave
for me. It’s my birthright; it’s my heritage. God ordained it for me
and I must get my share of life, from a man, my man.
 You know; he has got to
be a suave dancer, not a guy, who does aerobics on the dance floor. When I
want to dance all night with him, he’d better do. And when I want space
to do my own thing, God give him the strength to let me do so. I want him
to take out time to exercise and be just the right measure of neat and
tidy, since too much meticulousness can be frightening. I want a man who
struggles for me, and praises me to high heavens when I do the same. I
want a companion, a best “bud”, a soul mate, who can talk to me all
night, provided of course I want to talk and not just enjoy the silence.
He’d better be articulate, never stop in mid sentence, stuck with
“ummm, ummm”, always voice his opinions clearly and never be bad
mannered (like not know which spoon is for the soup) especially in public.
He must have the ability
to appreciate good taste in shoes, bags, my clothes, furniture, paintings
and music. He should never stop me from being too tackily dressed, as
sometimes I wish to be. He’d better be computer literate for I am not,
be able to fix the AC and Microwave, for I am hardly mechanical.
All the gods, up there
better help him, if he likes Peter Andre or the Backstreet Boys, and I
hope I die the day, if I ever hear him pronounce “Givenchy” as
givenchee. Oh, I almost forgot. This particular member of the male species
better play an instrument, any musical instrument, be it the harmonica, flute or the tablas.
But I like strings, so a guitar would be really nice. Naa, I don’t want
a conventional stereotypical male, he’s not allowed to be, other than
the fact that he has to be the provider.
So, I wonder how many
would say these are ramblings of a loony? If so, I hope I am the only
loony in the world. Women, I fear, tend to see less black and white than
men, and want it all. And if there is a choice between getting it all and
getting less, I hope the latter is the choice made. All I can say is “Thank God, I’m not a MAN”.
|
