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05 November 2010

Guest Bloggess: Shopping for the Ideal Man

Today, we come to yet another guest post, this one from the unstoppably awesome Man Shopper, checking in from her base of operations in Paris. While I have always been a fan of MS's prose, I am particuarly fascinated by her appreciation of the derriere, which almost matches the intensity of my own. And though I could go on about how I've filled many nights with dreams of lounging with her on the banks of the Seine, my head resting comfortably on her buttocks as I feed her bread and wine, I'll just cut right to the chase and get on with her spectacular post:

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If you look only at my blog entries, you’d think that I spend 100% of my dating time being a brutal buzz-saw – that all I do is gut my Parisian victims as if they were animal carcasses in my own personal slaughterhouse. I’m terribly offended that anyone could possibly think this of me. Unlike my mother, who was born without tear ducts, I am somewhat human, and I am here on Lustmongers to combat these vicious assumptions.

For the record, I only spend 99% of my time being the Man-chopper, so to speak. There is a whopping 1% of positive thinking that goes on, I swear. To prove it to you, this post is dedicated to unveiling the Man-shopper’s ideal man.

Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t focus ALL my energy on finding fault with my men. Even though I find myself assuming the worst of Parisian ‘gentlemen’, there is an itty-bitty-teeny-weeny-yellow-polka-dot-bikini part of me that still holds out hope that my ideal man is out there.

Who is this fairy-castle-in-the-sky of a man that I’m looking for, you ask? Brace yourself. This list is so profound that it very well may change your life.

He adores me.

He makes me laugh.
Not fake laugh. LAUGH. Even better, he makes me giggle. Dear readers, I don’t giggle. If I giggle, that means that I’ve got a severe case of totally-into-him. I make it a point to be disgustingly healthy, so this is a rare affliction for me, but it’s been known to strike me down from time to time.

I make him laugh.
He needs to think that I am drop-dead hilarious. What can I say? I’m vain. Besides, I AM hilarious, dammit.

He has a certain appreciation for my nerdly pursuits.
These include but are not limited to activities like crosswording, popular science books, obscure documentaries, Scrabble, and partitioning my hard drive (no, that is NOT a euphemism for anything; get your minds out of the gutter, you gutter-dwellers!).

He is adventurous and physically fit enough to keep up with me.
Aside from the obvious sexual innuendo that can be read here, I also mean that he would go cycling with me, go rock climbing with me, be my sparring partner, or at least go to the gym with me.

He has broad shoulders.
I need to have a good spot to lay my head when I snuggle with him. It’s MY SPOT.

He wears sweaters.
Sweaters are adorable. If you disagree, go away. I love a man in a manly sweater. Moreover, I like to wear his sweaters when I want to feel thin.

He has a great butt.
I just like a nice bum. Ken understands. I would have put this at the top of the list, but I didn’t want to seem too superficial.

He likes dogs.
I love dogs. I intend to have one soon, and he is going to be a French bulldog named Pickle. If I were forced to choose between some dude and Pickle, I’d choose Pickle. Pickle may be strange-looking, slightly incontinent and incapable of controlling his snoring, but he would never betray me. Pickle adores me. And he wears sweaters.(Don’t pity Pickle, he loves wearing sweaters. It’s not animal cruelty, I swear.)

He likes to clean.
I like to cook. I believe this to be a reasonable and reciprocal arrangement.

His mother loves me.
Hey, I did warn you that this is a list of IDEAL characteristics, not ACHIEVABLE characteristics.

He is faithful.
Like I said... IDEAL characteristics. I’m going to have to move out of France to get this one checked off my list.

He has a great butt.
I thought that this point deserved reiteration. Moreover, this is Lustmongers, and I believe it to be my solemn duty as a guest blogger to take another moment to give another nod to the ass-worship for which Ken is so famous.

And there you have it: my list of the thirteen essential characteristics of my ideal man. The number ten is so... jejune. So I came up with thirteen for you.

It was exhausting for me, so I hope that you all appreciate my efforts to think in positive terms instead of making a list of things that I DON’T want in a man.

THAT list is actually going to be my great American novel, so stay tuned.

N.B. Big shout-out to Skye for the idea for this blog post! She is goddess.


Skye Blue said...

This goddess is blushing. Love the post and I'm so on board with the great butt requirement ;)

Caleb said...

"and partitioning my hard drive (no, that is NOT a euphemism for anything; get your minds out of the gutter, you gutter-dwellers!)."

Way to preempt me. Because yes, that is absolutely an innuendo.

mikethemasterdater said...

Damn, I feel like I need to get ass implants now.

Kelly said...

I think this list is totally achievable, except for naming your bulldog Pickle. Would your ideal boyfriend want to walk/ take care of "Pickle"while you were away? I guess I'm picturing a pink bow around her neck...

Sam Sharpe said...

Ooh, Man Shopper, ma cherie amour. I was nodding along like a drunken poodle while reading this post. I was about to run out to the nearest travel agent and book my flight to Paris, convinced as I was of our compatibility...until I read the part about the dog. I don't do dogs. Oh well. It wasn't meant to be. C'est la vie

Anonymous said...

@Skye - Am so glad that there are more women on board with the butt requirement! It is a much underappreciated branch of man-shopping.

@Caleb - As a gutter-dweller myself, I knew just how to preempt you!

@Mike - Careful. With a great ass comes great responsibility.

@Kelly - I wanted to name him "Pickle" so that when he misbehaves, I can reprimand him with a "Putain, Cournichon, qu'est-ce que tu fous là?!" I don't know why, but this was an crucial consideration in my name choice.

@Sam - I love the image of a drunken poodle. Even if you're not a dog fan, being a fan of dog similes could be an adequate substitute!

Anonymous said...

All about give-n-take. He cleans, I cook. Sounds like a good deal.
I'm not much of a butt-person myself, but I am on board with the broad shoulders.

Anonymous said...

Hey Shopper,
Hang in there for your Pickle-loving, ass of steal, broad-shouldered Adonis. I have faith he'll find you.
I concur, asses are important. Of equal importance is the ability to kill monsters in the night, delicious, kissable lips, and a big enough supply of p.j. pants to share.
And a love of sandwiches that matches my own.

Something She Dated said...

Dear Man-Shopper,

Alas, a friendship between us is doomed. From the very start. Here I am picturing a world of BFF bliss, but it is not meant to be. I've always pictured us going to the gym, slipping on our drool and landing in a dogpiled heap at the end of our treadmills, alas losing the chance to seduce our objects of drool. I imagine us meeting genius scientists made of expertly refined DNA catered to musculature and purity only for them to feel rebuffed when we stutter so profusely in conversation they infer we are making fun of them. I imagined we'd try speed-dating together but, after I slipped and toppled two tables and you burst out laughing only to spit your drink on another patron, they would have to escort us off the premises. I always assumed one day our budding similarities (read: total and complete awesomeness) would bring us together to be best friends forever. Sadly after reading this post. I've realized. It would never work. We hunt for the same prey. We stalk the same beasts. Get away from my boyfriend bitch!

The Bear (I've decided this is my new nickname. It'll stick. It's sticking. It's stuck).

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