Without further ado, here we are. Eight things.
- A man of words! Witty yet unpretentious. Frivolous yet intense. Profound yet light-hearted. A well-read, articulate man. He must love his Thomas Hardy or Scott Fitzerald or EM Forster as much as his Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams.
- Unbearably hilarious. He must have a sharp, acerbic wit and yet.. yet.. a light, gay humour. Quick, sharp and always on target. I crave for constant entertainment.
- Cultured. Now there’s a funny word, bit snobbish, the ‘cultured’ man. I must have sophistication and class but never never ostentation. His clothes should sit on him with an easy, almost casual elegance. His mannerisms, always smooth but never dull. The walk of quiet confidence, the whiff of success, the quiet demenour of accomplishment, the touch of class.
- Must love movies and theater and cinema as much as I do! Fantastically wide-ranging interests. Must be moved to tears by a Merchant-Ivory Production and then come home and be in stitches over Monty Python or Woody Allen. Musicals, Drama, Film Noirs, Slapstick, Anything goes! But he must LOVE movies.
- If music be the food of love, play on. I don’t expect someone who’s majored in Art and Music History but he must, he must, he simply must worship the Beatles. And Led Zepp. And Pink Floyd. And The Who. And Simon and Garfunkel. And Mozart. And Jefferson Airplane. And Genesis. And Jethro Tull. And and and…
- He must be game for anything! I don’t know what I’m planning to do next, but it’d be frightfully boring all by myself. Whether it’s tasting snails and oysters (bit salty, but neither as awful tasting as they looked; I rather liked snails) or traveling to Czechoslovakia or trekking across Eastern Europe or just liking to be around people and being one’s brilliant best in the company of others, he’s got to be game! I really am NOT one of those people who like curling up indoors. (Well, its not bad or anything, I particularly like rainy afternoons by the window but I can’t live without fun and food and lights and people)
(6.a) I cheat. HA! If he is to be open about trying new things, it stands to reason that he must be open-minded by disposition. Tolerant to a fault! He must not just put up with, but actually revel in my little idiocies that pepper the days. I detest narrow-mindedness and rigidity in a man. It makes him small and self-important.
- And now, my base emotions make an appearance. He must be 6 foot at least, with broad shoulders. Hard but not hulky, lean but not thin. And he must play sport! I prefer Tennis or Cricket. They don’t have the crude brutality of rugby or the namby-pambiness of golf. There’s something about a nice, strapping lad in white on the cricket green that drives me wild. Charm and wit and sophistication are all very fine, but I want a bit of the devil in his eyes. Brings out the worst in me, you know. A dash of recklessness and danger is this girl’s dream at least. Wouldn’t mind him owning a mean mo-bike.
- The voice. A fluid, dulcet toned voice. I don’t mean to wed Art Garfunkel but I must have a man whose voice is quite literally music to my ears. He must be able to brush against my ear and whisper into it sweet nothings or innuendo-laden remarks with the effect of sending little electric shocks thru my being. A mellow tone with just the hint of an accent, rather prefer the clipped tones of the brits to the brash drawl of the yanks. Perfectly neutral is perfectly fine too! As long as he enunciates.