What is your ideal man? I never know how to answer questions like this one, so I usually Just say something along the lines of, “My Ideal man is someone who wants a commitment,” now, that may not sound Like a bad thing– actually, I believe every woman wants that– but for a question Like this, It needs depth; It needs detail, which Is something I am not very good at doing– I’ll still try. My ideal man reads novels, not those ragged Playboy, and Penthouse magazines but real books like, “The Stranger” by Albert Campus, “Elliot” by Vladimir Nabob, or J. D
Clinger’s classic read, “The Catcher in the Rye. ” He enjoys having long conversations, and watching film noir movies with me, he even enjoys those idiotic, nonsense films like “The Hangover,” because it’s so crazy it’s funny. He likes public displays of affection; not caring who sees our love and our infatuation with one another, he loves the way my hand perfectly fits in his, as though I was made just for him. He Likes It when I wear his clothes because I look good In them and he knows, I love having a piece of him, he tells me I’m beautiful, even when I look Like a big, fat blowfish.
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He lets me wear his cologne because he knows how much I adore his smell, only to buy me my own bottle because he knows it makes me feel closer to him. He loves cuddling, because, who doesn’t love cuddling? He lets me fall asleep first, just so he can watch me sleep and he sings me corny, love songs when I can’t. He’s spontaneous, he loves waking me up at 4 A. M in the morning Just to take a drive around the block, even when he knows, I’ll be passed off in that moment.
He hurts my feelings because he loves and cares about me, and wants me to learn that the truth hurts. He randomly whispers sweet nothings in my ear in the store, he hugs me from behind, when I’m upset and pull away, he pulls me right back and makes me tell him what’s wrong so he can cheer me up, he calls me at 12 AM Just say Happy Birthday, he sings me songs and buys me books because I’m not a high maintenance girl, and he knows how much I love those two things.
When I’m sick he comes right over and makes me feel accepts them both. He has a career, and life goals. He wants to get married, and start a family. He doesn’t pressure me into sex because he knows that I’m a virgin, and he accepts that + knows I want to wait for the right person (Even though he already knows he’s the right one). He cooks for me; he buys me flowers for no reason, he says “l love you, ” Just because, he cherishes our relationship.
He kisses me in the pouring rain, because he knows that I am a big hopeless romantic. He watches chick flicks with me, even though I hate chick flicks. He stays in bed with me because I’m too lazy to do anything. He takes bubble baths with me after work, he kisses me in the morning despite me having bad morning breath, he likes going to the zoo and fat teens. He loves my lame, dry sense of humor. He enjoys my company. When I’m mad he leaves and comes back with a lot of chocolate because he knows how much I love chocolate.
He enjoys operas and weird, one-man plays, dancing to old records and looking through old photographs of the past. He accepts me and the girl that I am. He cooking even though I’m not that good. He smiles when things are bad because he knows it’ll make me feel better. He brings out my sexy side because he knows I am a bit of a tomboy. He makes me breakfast in bed because he wants to surprise and get little something-something for being so amazing.
He likes the aquarium and life; having snowball fights in the middle of the night and pigging out on food that contains too many damn calories. He loves gory, horror movies; he protects me when I’m scared and fights for me when I’m weak. He wipes my tears when I cry, and offers his shoulder to rest my head on. He loves me no matter what; he’s my osculate, my prince charming, he’s “the one. ” The one I was born for. – That’s my ideal man; that’s what I wish for everyday. He may not exist but it’s okay to dream, right?