Grocery List

With Valentine's Day--my most hated of holidays--looming just a few weeks away, my head has lately wandered more and more frequently to my single status.

Permanently single.

Terminally single.

These and others are phrases I use regularly to describe myself. Friends laugh it off, say I'm just being melodramatic, and "oh stop it, you'll find someone eventually!"

Eventually.

I wonder what makes them so certain. In life, there are no guaruntees. I think it is perfectly plausible that a person could go through their entire life alone, never finding someone with whom they connect on a deep enough level to stick it out. Never being that person that someone else can connect to.

I find it perfectly plausible that that person could be me.

And I try not to get mopey and depressed about it, because really? If that's the way it's gonna go, that's the way it's gonna go; and no amount of moping and woe-is-me bullshit is going to change that.

Because my problem? Is that I have standards. High ones. I have lived my life under the umbrella of an excellent example of love, and I won't settle for less than that in my own life.

Settling never makes anyone happy--the settler or the settlee.

Then again, my standards? I really don't think they're all that demanding. But I could just be used to them. You know, sort of like you don't notice a smell (good or bad) that you live with every day, but someone else enters your space and notices it immediately?

No?

Well regardless of my poor attempt at simile, perhaps I just need an outside perspective.

So here it is: my grocery list. Here is what I look for--and have yet to find--in a man.

Honesty. Really this should go without saying, but sadly it doesn't. And I don't simply mean honesty in the please-don't-cheat-on-me sense (though of course that certainly applies!). By "honesty," I mean that I want a man to play straight with me. If I'm being ridiculous? Tell me. I might get pissed, but I'll get over it. Be man enough to deal with me being pissy for an hour or so. Just in it for the sex? Put on your big-boy pants and tell me, because guess what... I can handle it. And if you're cute you'll probably still get laid--and if you've made it to the point of needing to tell me, you undoubtedly are. What you won't get are bitchy, passive-aggressive text messages a few weeks later when you stop calling. If you lay it on the line to begin with, I won't expect you to.

And speaking of being a man... damnit, Be one! Man-boys need not apply. I'm not saying you need to have it all figured out, bench 180, and have a 401k. But having goals in life, knowing how to do your own laundry, and occassionally being able to pay for dinner are all good things.

In a similar vein, let me be the weak one every now and then. I'm strong every day of my life, and every now and then? I kind of want to curl up and let someone else take care of me for a few hours. I don't ask for it very often, so when I do? Kindly step up.

Please know how to cook. You don't have to be a gourmet chef, but living off ramen is no longer cool once you've left college. Even if it's just a killer grilled cheese sandwhich, if you know how to cook just one thing well, it means you can feed me every once in awhile (see point above).

I sing. And dance. A lot. If that annoys you, it will never work. So please at least be able to tolerate my silliness. It would be even better if you found it charming, but I don't want to be demanding.

Be reasonably attractive.

Have a brain and, more importantly, use it! Nothing pisses me off more than smart people who act like idiots. Have an opinion. Accept that I may sometimes disagree with it, but have one anyway!

The days of substance abuse should be behind you. Not that you need to be 100% clean, mind you. I drink--sometimes far too much--and smoke cigarettes (though it would be a bonus if you didn't because that would totally help me quit), and still occassionally indulge in the odd illicit substance. But the days of partying until 4am 6 nights a week and doing bong hits while playing Asshole with grain alcohol punch? Those days are gone. Daily tokers, snorters, etc please keep away. However, past stories of drug induced hilarity are always welcome--particularly at family holidays, because that's how we roll.

For the love of god be over 25. Because really? They're all man-boys before 25.

Shower and brush your teeth regularly. Shaving is optional.

Know how to tell a joke.

Own at least one suit. Even if it only comes out for weddings and funerals, even if it's powder blue, the fact that you own one speaks volumes.

Unless it's a leisure suit. Leisure suits do not count.

I like sex. A lot. You should too.

But for the love of god at least have a rudimentary knowledge of the female anatomy. I don't need you to be a porn star--indeed, you'd better not be a porn star because if you cum all over my face and expect me to frolic like a little girl in a chocolate fountain? I might punch you. However, not being able to find the clitoris, even with a road map, is inexcusable in a man over 22. I do not have time for remedial sex education lessons. I don't even have time to do my laundry.

Please accept the fact that at times I can be a bit crass. I promise not to do it around your mother.

Unless she does it first.

Have at least one close female friend. I cannot stress this one enough. If a man has no female friends, this tells me that he has trouble relating to women in general. Also he has nobody who can explain to him precisely how he fucked up when I am angry and he can't figure out why.


So there it is. An honest, reasonably attractive, non-drug-abusing, intelligent MAN, who likes sex, knows something about it, can talk to girls, and knows how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

If anyone knows of such a superman, please... send him my way!


And in all fairness, before my male readers (reader? I only know of one of you) get all into a tizzy, it's only fair that I outline what I offer in return:


I'm cute. Pretty even. And I've got a fantastic ass.

I'm smart. I have opinions (lots of them!) which I am clearly more than willing to share. I enjoy debating a point just for the hell of it, and if I get too carried away or worked up over an opinion that's not actually mine? See "If I'm being ridiculous" clause above.

I like sex. A lot.

I am also good at it. References provided upon request.

I am a good cook, and I much prefer cooking for other people rather than just myself. I also tend to shower those I like with baked goods.

I am ridiculously busy; meaning, I have my own life. Every minute of my existence will not revolve around you, and therefore I will not expect every minute of yours to revolve around me.

I like sex. A LOT.

I will knit things for you (when I have time). I will also mend your clothes, hem your pants, or take in that vintage suit that you got a great deal on but is just a biiiit too big... because I am a closet domestic goddess.

Who can also re-wire a lamp and operate power tools.

I don't insist that you love my cat. Just tolerate her.

I'll try almost anything once.

I am totally obsessed with llamas. I'm not sure if this is actually a benefit, but it makes me easy to shop for. Pretty much anything llama-related will make me squeal like a 5 year old.

(Provided you stick around long enough) I will never pressure you to get married. If it happens, great--just so long as you don't mind eloping. If not, I'm not going to have a coronary about it.

I love dive bars, and all that comes with them. You will not hear me complain about the state of the bathroom, the unidentifiable sticky substance coating the bar, or the mystery-aroma that occurs when you mix stale beer, smoke, and bodily fluids. I will be too busy schooling your ass on the pool table to notice.

I can walk a mile in 4" heels.

I love football (and understand the rules!).

I will never give you shit about guys' night out, nor do I care if you go to a strip club. Hell, if you take me along I'll buy you a lap dance.

Okay, this needs to stop before my head gets too big for my cube...

So there it is. I think it's a pretty level playing field.

What about you kids? What do you look for in that elusive (or not-so-elusive for some of you) match?