Like most men yearning for the affection of those of the opposite gender, my life has been an endless search for the right woman. Unfortunately, the odds of finding the right woman are about the same as the odds of finding the lost Arc of the Covenant in a dumpster in Bayonne, New Jersey.
When I was 12, I hoped to one day have a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I was very shy and often had a zit on the end of my nose. I made up for it with a Sears catalog behind closed doors and lots of imagination. But that soon became messy and boring.
So I decided to look for a real girl -- any girl would do.
When I was 14, I hooked up with my first girlfriend. She was real cute and giggled a lot. But we just didn't click. I spent most of my time trying to figure out my next move, while she spent most of her time reading books about horses.
So I decided I needed a passionate girl.
When I was 17, I found a passionate girl. In fact, she was so passionate she believed in sharing it with every other guy in high school and much of the rest of the world.
So I decided I needed a girl with stability.
When I was 22, I dated a very stable woman. She was highly organized. Her wardrobe was hung in the closet alphabetically by manufacturer, sub-ordered by descending purchase date. She had a goldfish named Goldfish Number Two. It was her second goldfish. Everything was so organized, categorized and sanitized, I yearned for a Sears catalog once again.
So I decided I needed a chick with some spunk.
When I was 26, I found a spunky chick. Perhaps a bit too spunky. She had a tattoo of a spider on her neck, drank Tennessee whiskey straight from the bottle and had 19 cats. Her favorite pastimes were arguing and setting things on fire. One day we had a disagreement over which way the toilet paper should roll and she torched my car.
So I decided to find a woman who was laid back.
When I was 31, I found a woman who was laid back. In fact, she was so laid back, she rarely got off the couch. Her hippie pad tended to be a bit neglected. There was a large plant in the corner of the living room. It just started growing there one day. I think it was either a fern or some sort of fungus. One afternoon, she dried it out and smoked it. She didn't get very high, but she farted a pungent green mist for three days straight.
So I decided I needed a woman with more ambition.
When I was 37, I found a woman who was ambitious. She had a bachelor's degree in economics, an MBA from a prestigious college and was a Senior Systems Analyst for a large corporation. Her townhouse was trendy, her car was a BMW, her music was New Age and her wardrobe was proper. Unfortunately, she had this peculiar notion that those around her should also be ambitious.
So I decided to find a woman who wasn't demanding.
When I was 44, I found a woman who wasn't demanding. She was quite easygoing and tolerant of my various quirks. I later found out that her other three personalities weren't quite as affable. Sometimes, when she ran out of medication, all four personalities came out at once and began arguing with one another about the origin of the universe, and whether or not Chicken of the Sea was chicken or tuna.
So I decided to find a woman with a single personality, close to my personality.
When I was 49, I found a woman with a matching personality. This worked out just fine for about 30 days. But after a while I noticed we were always wearing the same outfit. It was like we were always dressed up to go to a square dance. I was trapped in the Twilight Zone with a female clone of myself. Being with someone just like yourself is the same as being alone, except your shadow can talk back to you.
So I decided to find a woman who was an exact opposite.
When I was 53, I found a woman who was my exact opposite. This worked out just fine for about 30 minutes. Every moment of existence became a battle for supremacy. If I wanted a quiet evening at home, she wanted to party. If I wanted to party, she wanted me to get some counseling. I was trapped in the Twilight Zone with a big pile of negative energy wearing high heels. Opposite don't attract without friction.
So I decided to stop searching so hard for the right woman and sleep on it.
Then one dark night (they're always dark -- that's why they call it night), I met a woman on the Internet. She was a hot tomato from Canada who was attractive, intelligent, talented, compassionate, formidable and thoroughly twisted. All balls and fluff.
She had recently returned to Planet Earth to save all the innocent four-legged creatures from the heartless two-legged creatures who had rocks for brains. A legacy from another dimension, returning to fulfill a destiny.
Of course, Canada isn't exactly another dimension, like Transylvania or Scotland. It's basically a vast wasteland, fondly known as the attic of America, where polar bears and hockey players breed like polar bears and hockey players.
At last, I've found the perfect relationship. An occasional e-mail message and a rendezvous in dreamland in the wee hours of night.
It's the best of both worlds. My daylight hours are uninterrupted by catering to someone else's needs and I get to spend my evenings with the perfect woman.
The thrill of victory without the agony of defeat.
Besides, when you reach a certain age, it's probably the best you can do anyway. .
My lifelong search for female companionship has finally ended. Although I've given up on connecting with flesh and blood in my waking hours, I'm still blessed with a fine imagination.
With my luck, a real woman will come along any day now and spoil the whole thing.
Gentlemen prefer blondes.
Some like it hot.
The Misfits chase dreams.
Quote for the Day -- "It's better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone -- so far." Marilyn Monroe