I’ve been asked a few times what kind of woman do I like since I’ve blogged so friggin’ much about the kinds of women that I’ve dated and it didn’t work out. And I’ve also blogged about which ones to avoid. In volume. Aaaaand also about the kinds of women that my friends go out with and are married to and are absolutely miserable because of them but only stay with them to avoid a fight or are just too pussy to break up with these succubi because they don’t know how to walk this world on their own. However, there have been some women I’ve mentioned in posts that I’ve dated and enjoyed, but I guess not enough for some of your liking. Fine. Time for that positive female post! Oh boy. Just for the record I don’t have a type. I have a like. And here’s what T likes. Yes I pulled a third person right there. Now remember this is strictly just for like. Not for sex. Because well sex is different. Here’s how I came up with this rambling thought list. I took all of my past good experiences and mixed them up with what I have yet to find. I’m not sure she even exists but this is how she would be.
She has to be a woman. Not an annoying little girl. Not talking about age, talking attitude, intelligence & emotion. She has to have something to say. Doesn’t have to be profound. Just not stupid. She has to have done something. Not nothing. Anything at all. Big or small. She smells good. Without perfume. She gets me. This is key. This is what makes me want to be nice to her and not treat her like an asshole like I do all the rest. She accepts my past. Maybe she can name a Sox player that was on the team before they won the ’04 World Series. She never wears a damn pink hat. She has a style all her own. Never puts a price on anything. But likes to be spoiled. She’s a lady. She crosses her legs. Covers her mouth. She is single. Emotionally single. Mentally single. Financially single. Can swear when she’s pissed but doesn’t talk like a truck driver. She has an infectious laugh that never gets annoying. She’s the girl next door until we close the bedroom door. She lets me be manly when she needs a man. She texts me and doesn’t get mad when I don’t text back right away! She’s a believer in guys night out. Because she doesn’t bring past trust issues into what we have. She makes me want to bring her around my friends. And they become her friends. She doesn’t think I want to bang her friends. I like that my friends would like to bang her. Her hair is always soft. Maybe a flower in it. She looks just as good sweaty from the gym without makeup and a ponytail as she does in a dress. She’ll bust my balls in a funny playful way not in an insecure hateful way. She thinks I’m the funniest, because shit I am. But I know she’s funnier. Her smile lights up a room. She wants to see what I’m working on. But will let me work on it without the guilt. She knows I work hard for her and everybody I care about. She likes it when I walk on the outside of the sidewalk old school style so the car hits me first. But most likely we’ll both get killed. She believes me when I say I never lie. She can have the remote, I have DVR. As long as an important Boston game, Sons of Anarchy or It’s Always Sunny isn’t on! She doesn’t get suspicious as to why I know certain people; especially the people I grew up with; and even all the hot chicks. She likes not waiting in lines but likes waiting in line with me. She can go out and get drunk but not be that drunk girl. She’s hot enough to dance on the bar but knows she doesn’t have to. She can tailgate in the cold with the guys at a Pats game in January wearing a non-pink, non-Brady jersey. Be nice if she owned a Troy Brown jersey. She doesn’t mind that I go to so many Sox games with the boys but she is definitely Sox/Yankees game date worthy. Will still take one for the team when it’s that time of the month. She really likes movies and always asks what I think about them. Doesn’t go on and on about the small stuff. Isn’t naïve to what goes on in a strip club. Which is nothing but us guys wasting our money and me getting drunk only to come home to her and she looks hotter half asleep in sweatpants with sand in her eyes than any of those strippers did on stage. Doesn’t ask why I’m yelling at the damn TV when my team is losing! Pizza and a bottle of wine on the occasion is just as fun as a table at a new Boston hot spot. She doesn’t have to eat red meat but knows how I like my steak. Tomorrow night I’ll cook. She somehow manages to keep her bathroom poops a secret from me. That’s the only secret she keeps though. She gets that I will always trust her but will never trust any of her guy friends. Not one. Ever. Even the gay guy friend. She doesn’t keep asking if she looks fat; if I think her friends are hot; how many girls I’ve been with; or where I learned to do that. She doesn’t have to know everything about Boston teams but she can’t be a Yankees, Colts, Lakers or Canadiens fan. She doesn’t blame me for what her ex did to her or what her father couldn’t do for her. She knows there isn’t anything we can’t talk about and figure out without fighting. Yeah it might be possible. And finally, sometimes, as busy as I get, she makes me want to put the work away, skip the gym, blow off the boys, reschedule that meeting and turn the phone off….without having to say one damn single word.
Until next time. Always take it there.