(Im)possible Standards: Part One

“…but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll ever look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what color it please God.”
-Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

I often ask myself, why did Shakespeare stop there? Those are but a few of the requirements for any qualified suitor. There is so much more that is absolutely essential to tempt me.

Essential Qualities that a Man Must Possess in Order to be Worthy of Me

He should also have an insatiable appreciation for the arts, like underwater basket weaving and car wash bumper sticker art.

He has to have read The Story of Ferdinand and the entire Curious George canon, every version of The Three Little Pigs, and hate Harold and the Purple Crayon, until he’s read through to the end. He has to love Green Eggs and Ham, until he’s read it through to the end (I mean gross, Sam I am).

He must shop exclusively at Kohl’s and only wear one pair of shoes, except under extreme duress, like when he needs to prove a point or has been captured by dragons who breathed fire on the other pair he had.

He needs to have space monkeys and an Elvis suit for his black Pomeranian/Chihuahua mix. He needs to be a cat person (he only adopted the dog because it looks kind of like a cat and because it belonged to his best friend who tragically died in a freak gasoline fight accident).

When he says he likes long walks on the beach, he had better mean the entire coast of Chile. Or he could just hate beaches and have a really poor sense of direction.

He needs a completely disproportionate hobby, preferably one that takes up the entire guest bedroom and occasionally occupies his dining table, and maybe part of his roof, or a hobby that is a boat.

He has to sniffle with just one nostril at a time.

He must obsessive-compulsively say every word that an acronym stands for three times each, in alphabetical order, uncollated.

He has to be a wizard, or if he’s not he should be descended from one. He should also be descended from some kind of large predatory mammal like a lion or tiger or a cougar or a cheetah or a leopard or a wolf or a griffin or a lynx (this is not even an exhaustive list).

He has to be a master weaver and cottage cheese maker.

He has to know the answer to ALL the riddles.

He has to smell like naked trees shrouded by fog.

He has to pine for the simpler days of his youth, now 197 years ago, when adulthood is just too complicated and hard, even though it’s really just post hoc nostalgia and his childhood was terrible at the time. They didn’t even have summer back then.

He has to pretend to hate most dairy products because of being self conscious about the way they make him smell.

He has to be a chameleon.

He has to own an iguana that just swallowed an entire salamander and is now eyeing his Pomeranian/Chihuahua mix.

He has to think dry elbows are sexy—not the most sexy, just enough.

He has to know how to complete the following sentences:

Since today is our last day on Earth, I hope________________.
Cardboard boxes are best used for__________________.
The main thing cellphones and syphilis have in common is___________________.

Yes. Such a man would win any woman in the world, and I don’t think perfection is too much to ask.

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