Way back some years ago, I wrote a post on what women want in a man in reaction to a list some guy had posted. It was theoretical at the time, since I was happily married and expecting to stay that way.
As we all know, shit happens and life forges its own way when we’re busy making other plans, so not long after those words hit the blog I was forced to take a refresher course in want … and should have reread my own words.
Here’s the list published then:
1. He should look like he could care less about what he wears and not spend more than 30 seconds on his hair.
2. In reasonable physical shape, showing evidence of enjoying a good meal and the occasional ale is required.
3. He can be clumsy and goofy as long as he has a good laugh.
4. He must be good at listening AND hearing. (Eye contact is important, too.)
5. He shouldn’t smell like anything that can be purchased through Duty Free other than a good Single Malt.
6. He must be passionate about something.
7. He should not be whiny, ever have his mother do his ironing or freak out at the sight of bugs or snakes.
8. Loving kids and animals and being gentle goes a long way to making up for lost hair or other mere physical attributes that may be less than perfect.
9. An addiction to the written word is vital.
10. He must have honor, never lie, and be ready to protect those he cares for with his life.
The guy who totally failed at numbers 4, 6, 7 and 10 didn’t last long at all and I have to strain to remember his name, him being referred to as “Blip” for a while, then totally forgotten by the radar.
A few men have satisfied requirements for the short term, but circumstance didn’t allow for taking things much further than interesting flings and long-term friendships over great distances.
One … yeah, the piñata man … scored very well on out-of-ten, and it took almost two years for the deficits to add up to me having to let my head rule my heart for the first time in my life. He was an absolute champ at 1, 2 & 3, more than fair on #4 … I can negotiate on 5, so that was okay … OWNS number 6, only slacks off on 7 when the opportunity to have someone else do his ironing presents, but is fully capable of keeping himself pressed and clean, and stunned me with his rendition of 8.
Unfortunately, 9 was lacking and 10 was beyond him.
Eight out of ten! Not bad!
Well … that’s what kept me going for almost two years: eight out of ten.
For quite a while I ran with the thought that 80% of needs met was enough … more than enough … and about all I could ask of a relationship. Drifting on a sea of his passion gave me moments … amazing moments … and the times the plug was pulled and the air went out of the dingy sending me to the depths seemed almost worth the effort it took to resurface.
More than a dozen times I opted out, and each time he pulled out the stops, trotted out the one-thru-eight where he scored highly, and each time I chose the 80% over the 20 that wasn’t happening.
Until I didn’t.
I may not be good math … and I fully admit to being crap with numbers … but 20% can wipe out 80% and reduce it to zero.
He tells me I shouldn’t expect more than 8 out of 10, that that’s as good as it’s ever going to get, that 100% of nothing is nothing. Perhaps he’s right and he’ll be able to prove that to himself someday.
For me now, though, having 100% of my heart must be better than giving half of it to the keeping of someone who can’t come up with the necessary 20%.
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 