by Jennifer M. Dryden (c) 2009
Sometimes when you’re young, your mind deceives you. You see things that aren’t really there and when the perfect man stands at an arm’s length, staring into your pretty brown eyes with his star-struck ones, you turn your shoulder thinking, another one will come around. The perfect man is right in front of your face, but because of your busy schedule or your stubborn idealistic pick up line he didn’t say just right, you dismiss him, mumbling some excuse as to why he doesn’t fit your Ken doll expectations. It’s what women do. Well, at least, it’s what this woman does.
I am overly obsessed with giving the right man the cold shoulder, shrugging his voice message and, simultaneously him, off repeating to myself, I’ll call him tomorrow. “Tomorrow” is Plan A for most anything I don’t want to deal with today: men, homework, studying for the Geology exam I must pass, and phone calls to my father. I write it down. I write it down with an empty box next to it on my to-do list. I write it in my agenda in a timeslot all of its own. Even if he is not the right man, he deserves my attention or at least one critical thought. Instead my shoulder twists and my feet walk away, unaware of the mess I am leaving behind.
My mind rocks at telling me I’m right within the first “feeling” of imperfection. Something is always wrong with him; most of the time it’s all in my head. I won’t take the time to stop and look him in the eye to see the true heart that lays within his chest… his puffed solid chest, at that. I don’t let myself get close enough to want to see his heart – maybe more so, for him to see mine.
I have standards, and I’m not saying most women don’t, but what I have are quite high. High standards aren’t bad unless they are unrealistic. Mine aren’t unrealistic but I can honestly say I haven’t found the match in Ames, Iowa or anywhere else I’ve been in his divorced country. Apart from one man, my heart can’t just accept a new man without doubts, without the assumption of heartbreak, and without playing hard to get, which means bailing on the first few dates. I have perfection outlined in my crowded head with roman numerals and capital alphabet letters. Some day the man being outlined will meet the writer, until then, bring on the busy work.