1) He must have world-class take my breath away intelligence.
In short he needs to know lots of stuff that I don’t. Good luck with that mere mortal boys.
Ref. Skyhammer, Pablito, Frenchiepants, Hoosie, The Analyst, Angel Boy
2) He must laugh at my jokes.
More than that he must motivate me to tell even greater jokes.
His laughter. I relish it, I crave it. It is a new addiction with no calories and only side effects are sore cheek muscles from smiling and sore abs from laughing.
Ref. Hoosie, Pablito, Angel Boy
3) He must enjoy to give and receive frequent massages.
The memory of just how good he was at the art of massage. And he loved doing it too. Mind you it was part of his training in physical education and if memory serves one of the few classes he actually bothered to attend. This is really just a euphemism for the idea that he really, really has to like touching me. But you knew that.
Ref. The Fiancée, The Analyst, The Baritone
4) He must embrace his sense of silly.
A man who can giggle without then turning around and leaping on the table in the presence of a mouse? Someone who would be happy to eat cinnamon toast and tea every morning for a week, simply because you announced that it was “cinnamon toast and tea” week. Makes me feel cinnamon toasty just thinking about it.
Ref. Skyhammer, Hoosie, Pablito, Frenchiepants, The Cossack, The Analyst, The Skateboarder, Angel Boy
5) He must make me feel brilliant.
Because he IS brilliant in some way and then when he gets that very considered look and says to me “You’re brilliant” – I actually believe him. More than that, he has to not mind that I just might, in some ways be more brilliant than he, and instead of finding that frightening, finds it exciting.
Ref. Skyhammer, Hoosie, Singer, The Jester
No comments:
Post a Comment