A whole bunch of people in my group have suddenly coupled up, leaving me in the single minority (not that that’s new or anything). As I glanced around at all the new couples, I started to think of what qualities a potential boyfriend would need to possess to meet my standards. I then went on facebook and a friend had written a status update about her dream guy, and a few others and I started listing the traits of our dream guy. For the sake of boredom, I decided to post mine here.
So, my dream guy must be:
- Foreign (British is preferable)
- Able to play guitar
- A fan of Harry Potter
- A lover of musicals
- Athletic (or at least of an athletic build)
- In the possession of an amazing vocabulary
- Capable of texting me using full sentences
- Able to use the word ‘irony’ in the correct context
- Sarcastic and witty at appropriate times
- Well Dressed
After writing my list, I went and got some food (that’s all I do these days: eat and surf the net) and on my way back, I recalled a section from “We Need To Talk About Kevin”. The narrator, Eva, married later in life and when she was younger would often ponder what her Mr. Right would be like. In her mind, he was a quiet, nerdy, skinny, foreign hipster who loved all things quirky and rare. In reality, she ended up with a large, athletic, typical American guy who loved nothing more than enjoying a beer and Watching The Game. Even though he was everything she thought she hated, he ended up being everything she needed.
It made me realise that no matter how hard I dream about my aforementioned Prince Charming, I’ll most likely end up with someone who meets none of my requirements. I can lust over British Aristocrats, but my real dream guy could be an Aussie footy (of the lame AFL variety) player.
We can have an exact replica of our dream guy in our heads, but at the end of the day, chances are he either:
a) doesn’t exist
b) will turn out to be Mr. Not-So Right
It’s like in all those cheesy chick-flicks; the girl thinks she’s found her Prince Charming, but then she realises that she either has to change herself for him to like her, or at the end of the day, he’s not who she thought he was. Then she breaks up with him and goes home crying and her guy best friend/next door neighbour is there and he comforts her and she realises that he is what she wanted all along and they fall in love and have a real fairy tale ending.
My only problem is I have no guy best friend and my next door neighbours are all like, sixty. Sigh.
Maybe I’ll live next door to Mr. Possibly Awesomely Right in France…
frangipani princess xoxo
ps. On that same line of thought, today at school this crazy psycho dude came in and wanted to kill some guy, and a few of the girls in my group were swooning over him and saying how attracted they are to ‘bad guys’. He was wearing a wife beater and was covered in tatts despite being sixteen, and rather than swooning I was left feeling repulsed. I’m all for bad-guys and villains, but only when they look like this: