Valentine's Day was a few days ago, once again reminding me of my endless search for female companionship. In the interest of brevity, public relations and potential litigation, the following series of events is meant to demonstrate the futility of my search rather than expose precise details.
When I was 13, I hoped to one day have a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I was very shy and often had a zit on the end of my nose. So I had to make up for it with wishful thinking and lots of imagination.
When I was 15, I got a girlfriend. She was very good-looking and intelligent. But we just didn't click. I spent most of the time trying to figure out my next move while she spent most of the 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 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 No. 2. It was her second goldfish. Wanting to remain relatively sane, I decided I needed a girl with some spunk.
When I was 26, I found a spunky girl. Perhaps a bit too spunky. She had a tattoo of a spider on her neck, drank Tennessee whiskey straight from the bottle and owned 19 cats. Her favorite pastimes were arguing and setting things on fire, often after an argument. One day we had a disagreement over which way the toilet paper should roll and she torched my car. So I decided to move far away and 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 sofa. Her only emotional outburst was an occasional hiccup. Her hippie pad was a relaxing environment but tended to be neglected. There was a large plant in the corner of the living room. I later learned that whatever it was, it just started growing there one day. 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 mellow, seemed pleased with our relationship and was tolerant of my various quirks. I later found out that her other five personalities weren't quite as agreeable. Sometimes, when she ran out of medication, all six personalities came out at once and began arguing amongst themselves about the origin of the universe and whether or not Bob Barker wore a toupee. So I decided to find a woman with only one personality, closely matching my personality.
When I was 49, I found a woman with a matching personality. This worked out just fine for about 30 days. It's hard to compromise with someone who refuses to compromise on the same things. So I decided to find a woman who was an exact opposite.
When I was 52, I found a woman who was my exact opposite. This worked out just fine for about 30 minutes. It's hard to go in the same direction with someone who is always going in the opposite direction. So I decided to stop looking for a woman.
My lifelong search for female companionship has finally ended. I'm perfectly content in my solitude. Although I've given up on the wishful thinking, I'm still blessed with a fine imagination.
With my luck, another woman will come along any day now and spoil the whole thing.