Last night as I settled in to stitch, I tuned in to the Lifetime Television for Women channel and caught a replay of Dirty Dancing. Yes, I've seen the movie before...(I don't really live in a cave surrounded by dog pee and Housewives)...I just had never really noticed HIM and how he looked at HER during that last dance.
I swooned, I tell ya. Positively, absolutely, completely swooned.
Right there in the Happy Chair.
So that got me thinking about what it might be like to find some poor half-blind, half-crazy man that would look at ME like that and I pondered taking a gander at online dating sites.
I did well enough answering all of the questions about what I might be looking for in a mate...kind, funny, smart, generous, patient, etc etc...but when it came time to creating my profile I hit a brick wall.
First is the matter of a profile picture.
Here's the one that I selected:
Stewey and Bosco pointed out that this one might be sending the wrong message. After all...what proper spinster shows her thong to perfect strangers without so much as a howdie doo?
So I moved on to the profile itself and came up with an opening tag line that I thought was swell:
"International swimsuit model trapped in the body of a portly yet loveable spinster."
Again, I got nothing but a big fat VE-TOE from the Peanut Gallery.
So I tried this one:
"1950's housewife trapped in the body of a 1980's sex kitten (if the kitten were the size of a small Buick and had not so much...whiskers, per se...but rather a full-on menopausal goatee."
That one caused both Bosco and Stewey to take away my iPad.
(There seems to be a lot of different people trapped inside me. I suppose that would explain a LOT if contemplated more fully and with the help of a certified mental health professional.)
I then thought about something a little more whimsical:
"Classic and comfortable...this vintage beauty is in need of a little TLC. Body needs work, but the engine is optimistically ready for the next 50,000 miles. Starter can be a bit tempermental, but with the right amount of Starbucks French Roast and a firm hand on the steering wheel, you can be sure it will eventually be quite a ride!"
Hmmmm. Not sure it sets the right tone about my overall level of tolerance tor adventure. If I go with that one, I suppose I'll need to add something about my propensity for just staying in the garage with a good book and some needlepoint.
He's out there...I'm just sure of it. He'll be funny and smart and have kind eyes and will smile and laugh and know how to open a door and pick up a check. He won't mind quiet nights watching a movie or quiet days watching the boats float by his multi-level well-appointed lake house that is fully equipped with a shaded patio for stitching, a fully-stocked gourmet kitchen, and a staff of friendly and discreet dog wranglers, cleaning persons, and butlers for You Know Who. He'll love to read, will keep his politics to himself, and he'll appreciate the convenience of having a private jet to travel to needlework shops both near and far. He'll like sports but won't expect me to play them. He will know what it's like to love and be loved, and is without a crazy ex lurking in a closet, and he'll understand that the baby ship has probably already sailed with this particular gal. He'll know how to fix things without having to whine about them, can order a meal and a bottle of wine without having to brag about it, and can be as comfortable in a ballroom as he is in a bowling alley. He'll be big enough that I won't feel like a water buffalo next to him, yet small enough that we can both fit in the same zip code without tipping it over. He'll be loyal and decent and hard-working, and will have a circle of friends and family that are as warm and fun as he is. And, most importantly, he'll let me be me and all that comes with that.
I'm sure this lunatic quest will prove itself to be just a whim and I'll get back to the solitary confines of the Happy Chair before long. Rumor has it that there might be a Ghostbusters marathon on the TeeVee later, so stay tuned...tomorrow I'll want to move to New York and wear a jumpsuit and proton pack.
Happy Saturday, kids! Do something fun and come tell me all about it!