WANTED: the "perfect" man

Nearly a full month has passed since Valentine's day. The relationship fallout has, for the most part, subsided. Now, before Prom Wars begins, as they inevitably must, i have found this time of quiet before the storm to speak my mind.

quickly.

in my daily eavesdropping on random conversation, i have found "the perfect man" to be a popular topic of discussion between girls (when their boyfriends are not presant, of course). But i have to laugh. Their ideas of the so-called perfect man are both unrealistic and unreasonable -- not to mention unfair to the male race!

generalized, they want a man who is handsome, has a good sense of humor, who is romantic, can dance, sing, who listens and talks to them, and would never, ever look at another girl. So, to quote KinkyBoots, a very good brit movie, "what they want is a man who is essentially a woman!"

but, i must admit, it got me thinking: what would i consider to be the traits of the perfect man?

well, to start, i certainly wouldn't want him to be "perfect." how awful, and totally screwed up would that be, to be with a man who is contantly right and proper and desireable, my every little flaw would me amplified tenfold, and i may quickly grow to hate him. no, i want a guy with nearly as many little odd quirks as i have.

there are some things that would have to be avoided at all cost, of course. obviously, a true jerk-wad would not even make it to level one in my virtual reality of love. a person with no self-respect wouldn't be able to respect me as a person, or anyone else for that matter! and nose-pickers? don't even bother.

some like them handome, or cute, or drop-dead gorgeous, or whatever. but i tend to measure appearances slightly different than other girls. note my first childhood tv crushes: Lurch from the "Addams Family," Commander Spock of "Star Trek," Nosferatu from the film of the same name (but only from a distance), and the most normal-ish one of the bunch, Harry from "3rd Rock From the Sun." So, i guess my type is spelled out right here.

now back to the list... the guy can't just have a "good" sense of humor -- that annoying little man down the street that does made-you-look jokes at inappropriate times and just doesn't know when to stop can be considered to have a "good" sense of humor -- i want a man with a great sense of humor, to compliment my own. see, my personality is very sarcastic, and, to a normal person, borders on the rude. this guy has to take any half-baked insult i can shovel out, and be able to fling them right back at me, with deadly accuracy. then we'll laugh at our shared "meanness."

now, on the topic of romance. some define romance as "a constant showing of love and devotion via activities, deeds, and tokens of affection." well, for me, just the fact that they're sticking around of their own free will, and happily doing so, is a fiar start for me. i've also heard it defined as "someone who loves me despite my flaws." okay, screw that! i'm sorry, but to love someone despite something that will always be a part of them isn't really love, now, is it? those flaws, those silly little quirks, should make it easier, more fun, to love me, not harder. I snort when i laugh. really loud. the dude's gotta love that laugh, 'cause with that sense of humor he's gonna be hearing it a lot.

also, just slipping this in here, i want to be able to fight with my man. not living in perpetual tight-faced politeness, trying to avoid all conflict, and so never getting to really know each other. i want to be able to argue and scream and shout, and in the midst of it all, ask if he wants cream in his coffee, or where i want to eat out next weekend, then resume our conflict. i want to be able to fight with him, and know that i still love him, and will to the end, despite how much i want to hate his guts at the moment.

the singing and dancing thing, i can take it or leave it. i mean, a singing voice is always nice, something i admire, but as i can't dance without inevitably injuring someone (not always myself, usually the person behind and slightly to the left of me), i don't see how it can be something beautiful we can share, becuase that's the only reason girls want their man to dance. not 'cause they want to date a russian ballerina-man, but so they can fly about the dance floor together, having fun and showing off their happiness to others, like me, who can't dance worth a darn. however, if he is as bad as i am, bring it on! we'll have fun stepping on each other's feet, then take turns massaging them back to life at the end of the night.

and the whole communication thing i have found to be a learned behavior. really. girls, have you ever met a straight guy that actually cared how jacked up who was over the weekend, and who dumped and is dating who, unless it ends in lesbien kisses or mud wrestelling? thing is, no guy really cares (and if he looks like he does, he either cares enough about you to pretend -- hold onto him! -- or he's tuning you out and undressing you with his eyes). my plan is to meet him halfway. just give highlights on stuff that matters (not much of a gossip girl myself, so this will be easy to do), then throw in a few embellishments, making it a game of "pick out the lie," and if he guesses right, he wins a cheeseburger. like a puppy!

and as for the guys that never look at another girl -- not only completely tiring, with all that constant attention, but totally fabulous with a capital fabio (lisp the "s" in "fabulous"). as long as he doesn't act on any of his fantasies, except for with me, 'cause he knows i'll kick his ass if he does, we're good.

it also wouldn't hurt if he were a little geeky or nerdy, as thoes types have brains enough for an intelligent conversation (mostly discussing things like temporal mechanics, crackpot inventions, what would happen in result of a MARVLE / DC comic crossover showdown, and the vast superiority of werewolves to vampires, or any other monsters -- sorry Team Edward).

but my top priority is that, amazing as this beautiful find, marvellous catch that he would be, he has to actually, you know, like me. be cool with my craziness, and withstand any rant i may spontaneously leap into. like this one. now that would be true love.

so, this said, i shall now crawl into my hole to wait out the battle that is sure to ensue as prom draws near. and so i leave you with this: the less perfect my perfect man is, the more perfect he will be for me.

on valentine's day

there are hollidays i like (christmas is cool, easter is fun, and on halloween, i actually fit in a little), even hollidays that don't exist, per se, but are still celebrated by a select few (international talk like a pirate day, sep 19), then there is the rare, but there, holliday that i simply cannot stand.

normal people call it valentines day.

it's not the day i detest, it's the implications.  it's been so distorted over the years that it no longer has anything to do with love or relationships, but deep, hardcore consumerism.  mind you, yes, america is a capitolist society and i can support almost any type of consumerism (mmm... mcdonnalds....) but not at the expense of something real.  there is no love, anymore.

for this particular event children are taught young that love = money.  when i was growing up, my school had this thing where you or your parents or any nice townsperson could order different things to be sent to the students during school, like carnations with little personalized cards, orange crush sodas for your crush, and hire the high school show choior to some over and sing "baby face" or something to you in the middle of class.  i rarely got any of these things, which was miserable (already shoving the media's idea in our faces that if no one buys you anything, you must not be loved), and even worse when i did get one, because i always found out later they came from my parents. almost pitiful, really, in the sight of my fellow classmates.  so much so that, in seventh grade, a bunch of kids got together and sent me six crush sodas, and four flowers as a joke.  (one that, unfortunately for them, backfired when i didn't seem the least bit put off -- my argument was yeah, so? which of us got free sodas and flowers?  oh, me! )

but in recent years (or maybe it just seems recent because now i'm starting to notice) it's escaladed to the point where a girl cannot be accepted by her peers unless someone spends money on them for these silly things.

i've been told that the only reason i have such a cynnical view on valentines day is because i'm not in a relationship myself.  well, yes, i am single, but (given the local choices) i'm not in a huge hurry to change that status. because of this, i assume i'll be celebrating the holliday the way all others of the single, yet pathetic persuasion will: stay home, adorn my most festive flannels, have a Bridget Jones double feature, and, in ovation to the movie choice, will enjoy a relationship with two men simultaneously: the first called Ben, the other, Jerry.

though, i suppose, were i in a completely different situation, if i had the doting boyfriend, i perhapse wouldn't mind him giving in to the horrid consumerism, and ordering me flowers, chocolates, and/or a stuffed red gorilla in a lab coat called "Dr. Love-Monkey".  if i were in the proper position to take advantage of the situation, i would probably recant this whole rant...  'till then, i remain cynnical.... waiting for someone to change my mind....

lady frank's first day (random short story)

dear diary,

i knew the moment i opened my eyes that it was bound to be a bad day. i mean, my hair was a mess, i was completely stiff from that slab of a bed i'd been sleeping on, and there was this crazy-looking scientist (i assumed, anyway, by his stained white lab coat) just standing there, screaming, "alive! alive! she's aliiiiiivveee!" uh, yeah. duh. so what did i do? i hissed at him, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

when i woke up a few hours later, i wasn't in my bed anymore -- that was actually a few feet behind me -- nor was i in the same clothes... which gave me pause... instead i was in this drafty nightgown, that did absolutely nothing for my figure. practically a bedsheet. that wacko scientist was there again with another ugly man, who was saying something about "the bride" --?

i started to get excited. oh! bride! that means there's going to be a wedding, right? i love weddings... i think... 'course, when i thought about it, trying to remember if i'd ever been to one, i realized, i couldn't remember anything at all beyond this morning! the discovery was dizzying, and i lost my balance. luckily (-ish), the crazy lab professor was there to catch me.

but, just as i regained my feet, in barged the most beautiful man i could ever *remember* seeing in my life! oh, i was breathless. he towered there in his tight clothes, toussled hair, simply grinning from inscision to inscision, and he was looking at me...

wait. he's looking at me?! oh, no! what do i do? i'm definately not dressed for flirting! do i even know how to flirt? and what about that wedding idea? and that bride they were talking about? 'cause as far as i could tell, i was the only one there of the female persuasion... oh, no... I'm getting married?! and i take it mr. tall, green, and handsome is the groom?... okay, yeah, i had to admit, he was quite a catch; as daringly handsome as they come. but i don't remember setting as wedding day! when did he propose? did we even date?! how could we have dated if i don't even know how to flirt?!?!

questions, questions, questions, questions... mr. gorgeous started tword me with open hands, muttering in his soothing voice, "...wife..." he really was a wonderful choice to marry, like we were practically made for each other! but i wasn't ready for a commitment until i could first remember my own name!

this in mind, i started to back away, but mr. gorgeous rushed forward, and before i could stop him, we landed on my bed. (yes! my bed! i think i might've had daydreams about just this situation when i could remember stuff!) we sat there, he held my hand, and sighed happily.

oh, my, gosh, he was holding my hand! okay, i thought, it's time to attempt some flirting. but what should i say? something cunning, witty, and charming, of course. but not so much that it seems like i'm showing off; that would probably scare him away. oh, i know! maybe something like, "skulk here often?" ooh! ooh! or, "what's a creature like you doing in a place like this?" you know, something clever and original.

but, when i opened my mouth to speek, the only thing that would come out of my mouth was, "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" i was so embarrassed! Great, i thought, Just what I need! To totally Freak Out on my Wedding Day! i was about to run off to the privvy, assuming i could even find it, to cry my eyes out (and they already felt a little bit loose, thank you very much!) when i saw the dejected look on his poor face. he's so adorable when he's sad. aaww, he must've thought my scream was because of him! well, it was, but not for the reasons he thought! ugh, i'm such a screwup.

i figured out he took rejection about as well as i did, because, with a lonely tear in his deep, yellow eyes, he sulked accross the room to where dr. nutzo and his ugly little friend were guarding some giant lever, then, with one mighty swipe, he knocked them both aside, grabbed the lever, pulled it and blew the place to bits, sparks of hidden explosive glinting off his handomely chissled features. i decided then and there that i was totally, completely, and madly in love with him! and i didn't even know his name...

i don't know how long i lay in the rubble before i saw my beautiful lover emerge from the nearby wreakage, sillhouetted against the rising sun, and disappear into the morning mist. fueled only by my love, i managed to arise as well.

he's taken up residence somewhere in the nearby forest, where i can easily watch him. i'm just not so certain about approaching him yet. after all, i did a full job of making a dead-brain of myself yesterday. well, for now, i guess i'll just watch from afar, and record my thoughts and feelings.

and, from this day forward, i do so solemnly swear to never leave the stitched-up side of my one true love. wheather he knows it or not.

end day one.