The Ideal Man?
THE IDEAL MAN?
It's 3 AM. I'm finishing up work. I look up and see that one of my best, closest and favourite friends logs on to IM. I say hello; I'm always happy to chat with VIP Call Girl; she's funny, extremely intelligent and is a very unique person. And I always have fun listening to her stories.
We talk; she tells me about her new man. A nice guy, really, she's happy, and I'm happy for her. She asks if I'm still single. "Yup. Nothing new on the horizon." She laughs and she makes fun of me. To her, I'm an up-tight, prudish woman but an excellent journalist with a great ear and the non-judgmental personality that goes with it. She's right; she's very different from me, it's also why we have a long-standing friendship.
She tells me to sign up to a dating site. "NO WAY!" I tell her; why? she asks. A lot of people do. "Yes," I say, "but I'm picky. And I'm not going to sign up just for the physical." "Ok," she says, "then go on for the luuuurve."
She directs to me a site; not your typical dating site, but a specialized site where millionaires and billionaires go to find dates. I forget for a second her life; then I remember. "I went on looking for a sugar daddy." I don't ask if it worked out; that's not my business.
So, while she's on with me, for fun, I fill out the huge and long questionnaire that is the entrance test. I'm surprised by the detail and the length of the questions; is it a way to give these men exactly what they're looking for? One night? One week? One year? A whole lifetime?
And here's where I start asking myself questions : if you answer to the question, "What exact type of relationship are you looking to find?" "Serious relationship" or "Mariage", then you're directed to another questionnaire. Just for your information, there is the section for "physical only" which sends you off to another place. As much as I was curious, and was even debating whether I should investigate, I didn't. Call me chicken, or maybe just out of respect for every job on the face of this earth. Everyone has the right to get what they want (within reason and without hurting anyone else intentionally of course). Or at least, go looking for it.
And so I'm on the "What are you looking for" section. And WOW! The questions! Bald or Shaved Head? Blond, but Light Blond or Dark Blond? Tall or short, in inches, feet, centimetres, metres? Hot, Very Hot, Drop-Dead Gorgeous or Plain and Average? Athletic, then how many times a week and for how many hours would he ideally work out? Smart, Really Smart or Genius? And of course, Millionaire, Mutli-Millionaire or Billionaire?
And THAT is just the beginning! So I wonder, do I ask myself all these questions when I'm looking at a potential mate? Do we ask ourselves a battery of questions, with lists and lists of qualities that you consider to be essential, when you're smiling at the person eating a plate of pasta in front of you?
And then I realize as I'm filling out the form; when given the chance to do so, yes. Of course. Why waste your time with a guy who looks and smells like a toad, and probably has the same IQ as a toad, when you can cut corners and find yourself choosing out of a whole pool (maybe not a WHOLE pool but at least you hope to have a choice) of eligible, handsome, intelligent and clean men? Why go through that disappointment, the kind I know you've all been through, where, after getting to know someone for 2, 3, 4 or more weeks, you learn something really important about him such as, he idolizes the Robert De Niro character in "Cape Fear"? You quietly and as nicely as possible so as not to offend him, walk out of the restaurant and then run to your car while rummaging like crazy through your handbag for the can of mace, hoping that you didn't inadverdently tell him where you live, and find yourself on the verge of a heart attack for the next month every time the phone rings. We've all been there; yes we have. You get to a stage where you start thinking, "Is it me? Or am I never going to find someone?!"
Let me tell you, that's why they invented caller ID.
So, instead of going through the ten hundredth date with the person who has bad breath or doesn't know what the capital of Australia is (it's Canberra, by the way), I let myself be really picky. Really, really picky.
Not a short man. Tall, but not towering over me that I can never see his face. Dark or blond fine, but not balding, no dandruff and definitely not purple hair. Takes a shower twice daily and works out 4 times a week for 2 hours. No alcoholics nor addicts and no one on Prozac. No Viagra either; if he's got to take it, then there's something screwy (excuse the pun) somewhere. Smart, intelligent and cultivated; yes I'd much rather talk to someone who not only knows where Florence is, but has been many times and even has a favourite restaurant there. Handsome? Well, DUH, yes. I mean, if given the choice, GIVEN the choice, isn't everyone going to say they want a clone of their favourtie actor than someone who looks like Quasimodo's first cousin? And rich? Well, ok, I'd rather have dinner at "Le Cirque" than go dutch at the hot dog stand, then argue about who has to pay for the extra chili, then have to catch the last metro back home.
I mean, do I really look at all these things in real life? Not really. I'm not materialistic; I've been on dates to the chip shop. Does he have to be a hunk? Look, I've dated men who aren't GQ. And does he have to be smart? Well, I married someone with a degree in accounting, not a PhD in Anthropology. Tall? I've dated both short and very tall. Athletic? I've dated sporty, as well as couch potatoes. Blond, dark who cares? These are guys I liked; for some of them, I really liked and became great friends although there was never any question of a relationship, not even for one night. And some I actually fell in love with, and for one, I married and had a kid with.
What I'm trying to say is this: love happens when you're not looking for it. It's something that can't be defined, nor given a reason for. And when it hits you, usually you're looking elsewhere. Most of all, when it does, all those questions and answers go straight out of the window of your heart.
So, why do people fill out these forms? Why spend your time answering these questions, when, if you're wise enough, you know that, love comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes. It can take any form and can be found in any place.
I'm sitting back in chair, at my desk, halfway through this ridiculous questionnaire. I say ridiculous; it works for a lot of people I know, so I'm not judging it, nor belittling it. But I'm thinking, why would I want to fill this out?
I'm happy for VIP Call Girl and her new love. They're serious and they seem happy.
And so I think, it'll happen, when it happens.
It's 3 AM. I'm finishing up work. I look up and see that one of my best, closest and favourite friends logs on to IM. I say hello; I'm always happy to chat with VIP Call Girl; she's funny, extremely intelligent and is a very unique person. And I always have fun listening to her stories.
We talk; she tells me about her new man. A nice guy, really, she's happy, and I'm happy for her. She asks if I'm still single. "Yup. Nothing new on the horizon." She laughs and she makes fun of me. To her, I'm an up-tight, prudish woman but an excellent journalist with a great ear and the non-judgmental personality that goes with it. She's right; she's very different from me, it's also why we have a long-standing friendship.
She tells me to sign up to a dating site. "NO WAY!" I tell her; why? she asks. A lot of people do. "Yes," I say, "but I'm picky. And I'm not going to sign up just for the physical." "Ok," she says, "then go on for the luuuurve."
She directs to me a site; not your typical dating site, but a specialized site where millionaires and billionaires go to find dates. I forget for a second her life; then I remember. "I went on looking for a sugar daddy." I don't ask if it worked out; that's not my business.
So, while she's on with me, for fun, I fill out the huge and long questionnaire that is the entrance test. I'm surprised by the detail and the length of the questions; is it a way to give these men exactly what they're looking for? One night? One week? One year? A whole lifetime?
And here's where I start asking myself questions : if you answer to the question, "What exact type of relationship are you looking to find?" "Serious relationship" or "Mariage", then you're directed to another questionnaire. Just for your information, there is the section for "physical only" which sends you off to another place. As much as I was curious, and was even debating whether I should investigate, I didn't. Call me chicken, or maybe just out of respect for every job on the face of this earth. Everyone has the right to get what they want (within reason and without hurting anyone else intentionally of course). Or at least, go looking for it.
And so I'm on the "What are you looking for" section. And WOW! The questions! Bald or Shaved Head? Blond, but Light Blond or Dark Blond? Tall or short, in inches, feet, centimetres, metres? Hot, Very Hot, Drop-Dead Gorgeous or Plain and Average? Athletic, then how many times a week and for how many hours would he ideally work out? Smart, Really Smart or Genius? And of course, Millionaire, Mutli-Millionaire or Billionaire?
And THAT is just the beginning! So I wonder, do I ask myself all these questions when I'm looking at a potential mate? Do we ask ourselves a battery of questions, with lists and lists of qualities that you consider to be essential, when you're smiling at the person eating a plate of pasta in front of you?
And then I realize as I'm filling out the form; when given the chance to do so, yes. Of course. Why waste your time with a guy who looks and smells like a toad, and probably has the same IQ as a toad, when you can cut corners and find yourself choosing out of a whole pool (maybe not a WHOLE pool but at least you hope to have a choice) of eligible, handsome, intelligent and clean men? Why go through that disappointment, the kind I know you've all been through, where, after getting to know someone for 2, 3, 4 or more weeks, you learn something really important about him such as, he idolizes the Robert De Niro character in "Cape Fear"? You quietly and as nicely as possible so as not to offend him, walk out of the restaurant and then run to your car while rummaging like crazy through your handbag for the can of mace, hoping that you didn't inadverdently tell him where you live, and find yourself on the verge of a heart attack for the next month every time the phone rings. We've all been there; yes we have. You get to a stage where you start thinking, "Is it me? Or am I never going to find someone?!"
Let me tell you, that's why they invented caller ID.
So, instead of going through the ten hundredth date with the person who has bad breath or doesn't know what the capital of Australia is (it's Canberra, by the way), I let myself be really picky. Really, really picky.
Not a short man. Tall, but not towering over me that I can never see his face. Dark or blond fine, but not balding, no dandruff and definitely not purple hair. Takes a shower twice daily and works out 4 times a week for 2 hours. No alcoholics nor addicts and no one on Prozac. No Viagra either; if he's got to take it, then there's something screwy (excuse the pun) somewhere. Smart, intelligent and cultivated; yes I'd much rather talk to someone who not only knows where Florence is, but has been many times and even has a favourite restaurant there. Handsome? Well, DUH, yes. I mean, if given the choice, GIVEN the choice, isn't everyone going to say they want a clone of their favourtie actor than someone who looks like Quasimodo's first cousin? And rich? Well, ok, I'd rather have dinner at "Le Cirque" than go dutch at the hot dog stand, then argue about who has to pay for the extra chili, then have to catch the last metro back home.
I mean, do I really look at all these things in real life? Not really. I'm not materialistic; I've been on dates to the chip shop. Does he have to be a hunk? Look, I've dated men who aren't GQ. And does he have to be smart? Well, I married someone with a degree in accounting, not a PhD in Anthropology. Tall? I've dated both short and very tall. Athletic? I've dated sporty, as well as couch potatoes. Blond, dark who cares? These are guys I liked; for some of them, I really liked and became great friends although there was never any question of a relationship, not even for one night. And some I actually fell in love with, and for one, I married and had a kid with.
What I'm trying to say is this: love happens when you're not looking for it. It's something that can't be defined, nor given a reason for. And when it hits you, usually you're looking elsewhere. Most of all, when it does, all those questions and answers go straight out of the window of your heart.
So, why do people fill out these forms? Why spend your time answering these questions, when, if you're wise enough, you know that, love comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes. It can take any form and can be found in any place.
I'm sitting back in chair, at my desk, halfway through this ridiculous questionnaire. I say ridiculous; it works for a lot of people I know, so I'm not judging it, nor belittling it. But I'm thinking, why would I want to fill this out?
I'm happy for VIP Call Girl and her new love. They're serious and they seem happy.
And so I think, it'll happen, when it happens.