I have been thinking lately that I might want to do an ad maybe an old school one on the print you read in your hands or the new age one that of craigslist that you read on your lap. It doesn’t matter which one I’ll chooses but I do know this it will say something about finding a date, a lover, a companion who is in mint condition. Almost perfect but not of course. Because perfection can be daunting and only exists in airbrush pictures in the magazine pages turned by us all.
No I am looking for a relatively normal guy in mint condition. I am starting to think this might be asking a lot. A lot. I am kind of sorta okay-really sick of dealing with guys that would actually be served more from a boot camp in therapy individual or group. I have grown tired the once awhile recreation really are habits. I habitually date men who are serial monogamists but they don’t serially date me. They don’t commit to me. But given my track record. I guess I am lucky. Lucky. Because who wants someone to commit to some of them that could be more broken, so broken the super glue versions will not do enough. Your super glue isn’t super man’s or wonder woman’s it is just store bought.
I want a man in mint condition. I want a man who is strong. Strong enough for me to lean on not all the time but once in a while. I want a man who thinks outside of himself. Not a ghandi wannbe but somewhere between oprah and wanting to be a reality television star might do. Might do.
I want a man in mint condition but when I found one, found one. I realized he was in mint condition only because he was too young to be damaged. At 23 he thought community college was like the maze of high school and waiting for me outside my class each day. It reminded me of my high school boyfriend that my friends used to make fun of since he made me lunch. It was enduring. And truth be told no one packs me brown bags anymore. I miss those bags. Like the love letters I used to get. Lost somewhere is sexting and emails and some other technological deterrent from the reality of the love, the letter. It was sweet. Sweet like a puppy dog.
But then I realized he is 23, I am not. I was interested in him. But he liked me because I talked to him when I gave him a ride home. Home. Really it felt just like high school. Because I soon found out, found out he was in fact living with his parents, no ride or license to call his own, no job to speak of, and he never left city college or sf for that matter. What universe did he reside where he thought there was a real potential. He was in mint condition but he was a baby, I needed a man.
But show me a man in his late 20’s early 30’s or beyond that could be in mint condition, mint condition and still lived. Maybe I am wishing, wishing for fairy tales upon fairy tales- god mother save me from this step mother of orders, disappointment, and it never being good enough. Save me from the pretend at reading the cliff notes, skimming and then finding out so much more later. Later. Maybe a mint condition man wanting one is liking wanting a perfect like, or perfect job. It is fleeting. It is childish. It's not real. But how about more like I am looking for someone who might have been a mint once but dropped a few times but is still in one piece. Is that too much? Too much to ask? Because a story of the heartbreaking potential, the heartbreaking stories, the heartbreaks the heartbreaks have just grown too much. I don’t want a fairy tale. I just want a better ending. Or maybe I should really read the book instead of the cliff notes.