I just got this silly e-mail…. the sort you’d have to resend in less than 48 hours or you’ll break a chain or something and perhaps you’d end up having the Titanic sitting on your face for the rest of eternity or something as silly.This one was about the Perfect Woman. Yeah, the message asked me to write up the characteristic of my Ideal Woman; the hair of such movie actress and so, the eyes of so and so, what kind of breasts she’d have…. Mixing and matching female body parts as if I were building a Frankenstein Bride in my garage (Hey, now that’s food for thought: If I don’t find my ideal mate, I should start searching through local burial spots and… Look! Ma! She’s Aaaaaliiiveee!).Silly e-mail. Men who dally in this sort of entertainment deserve what they get.
But as many silly things in life, it got me thinking. What if I were able to design my Ideal Woman? (Let’s face it: I’m single, lonely and stuck in the jungle, so I’m prone to these fancies).
And here are (I guess) the parts I’d mix and match:
Age: between 28 and 35 (I like the idea of long courtships, so if she’s 28 by the time I start wooing her, she’d probably be 30 or 31 by the time I perform my Ultimate Proposal; if she’s about 35, she’d still be in the proper range of breeding age, as the Terminator once charmingly stated;)
Body Frame: preferable petite, between 5 feet and 5 feet four inches
Hair: In spite what Sinnead O’Connor’s meteoric rise (and fall) during the 90s may tell, very few women have the necessary bone structure their heads require to take advantage of a no-hair or a crew cut style (or even a pixie cut), so hair is a must. Shoulder length, or a cascade that falls to their waist, blonde, brunette or redheads; I’m not picky here.
Well, as you can see, I began to run out of ideas about her physical appearance here. Like those two nerdy boys in that Weird Science movie, I agree that certain physical endowments (ahem!) shouldn’t be bigger than a handful, lest you want to risk a sprained thumb.
Apart from the four items listed above, I have no exigencies larger than she must breathe. (Remember, I’m stuck in a tropical rainforest)
What about her mental and emotional make-up? Hmmm?
First, she must be smarter than me. Which will a formidable feat. She must also be a bit on the aggressive side (for some reason I find it rather exciting that a woman might decide, on occasion, to switch roles and take active part in the dating game; something like a cavegirl who likes me enough to bash me on the head with a brontosaurus bone, which would be her way to tell me ‘Me like you: let’s discuss it’. Yeah, I know. My ideas of romance are somewhat primitive).
She must also be adventurous, because getting me out of the rainforest would be a very protracted legal and economic affair; she must be patient as well, for it might take years. That she may have a strong Beauty and the Beast fetish would help a lot here.
Also, she must have a great sense of humor, similar to mine. It’s okay; she doesn’t have to share my love for a movie like The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but if she enjoys When Harry met Sally (so we can discuss it endlessly) and silly ones like Something Funny Happened in the way to the Forum, then we’re in good terms.
And she must love kids (Damn, if it were feasible I’d carry that nine-months heavy belly on my own for her). Mild mannered, sweet, stubborn (in the right way). And she must also be a WRITER (that was detail I found about during my last online crush; in that way, she would be able to understand better this strange compulsion of sitting at a keyboard or grab a notebook to dream up improbable people and places. At least we could proofread each other’s work at the end of the day.)
Did I leave something out?
Silly me. No such woman has ever existed. Or ever will.
But a guy can dream, can’t he?