I'm still editing this, so please don't think I typically write this shoddily.
Sugary poems and dreams right out of Spiritus Mundi are clogged with descriptions of “The Perfect Man”. You know the basics: wants to take care of you, straight teeth, saintliness, beautiful eyes, a calming voice, rippling muscles, just can’t hear enough of your bitching, etc. Well Mr. Perfect and/or his legions of “tween” minded pursuers, I’ll be looking elsewhere.
Don’t act like I can’t take care of myself and you. If you want to help that’s fine but I’m fairly capable of making sure I live to see tomorrow. If I see a guy with straight teeth, I probably didn’t notice them for a good long while. I don’t care too much about your teeth. What am I going to do with them? You’re saintly? Please, I have enough Catholic guilt to spare. Move along. Also, all eyes are beautiful. Show me a pair that aren’t and I’ll…worry about compensating your efforts then. Muscles are nice but brains are better. If I’m bitching the dead back to life someone best put me in my place (Which may or may not be the kitchen.).
Keep your shining armor. Give me flaws. Impatience won’t scare me. Let there be rebellion in the marrow of his bones. Marinate the man in dark secrets and passion. A smidgen of fear won’t hurt either. And everyone knows all the great men have quirks.
Impatience is nothing new. Get angry. Vent. Yell at the stars while I hold your hand in silence (or maybe I’ll be yelling too.). Don’t hold back your feelings—and remember: I have them too.
Live outside the box. Don’t get killed; but don’t anchor yourself in normalcies. Be active in the community. Defend your beliefs. If your sense of fashion rivals Alexander McQueen: Awesome. If you’re trendy and have no flair, I might work on you. We’ll see. ;)
Make manifest a bond so you feel safe enough to release all those mothy secrets into my ears. Be an interesting story drenched with twists and surprises. We can help each other in this hideously beautiful world we live in.
Confidence is a quality that I find attractive. However, we all have those moments where we look at ourselves and see vulnerable veins just waiting for a slip up. My ideal man should recognize his mortality every now and then—but never fashion it into a chain.
Keep your Mr. Darcys and Ken Dolls. Paper and plastic have limited appeal. Give me a soul.
