Anny and Bree, you are making me wistful. Maybe there is a perfect man out there somewhere just for me. I am presently in love in Sheldon from The Big Bang. For those not familiar with this divine creature, he the lanky geek, a sort of cross between Dr Spock, Stephen Hawking and a daddy long legs. He is adoreable, I just want to bring him home and make him chicken soup! My tastes in men are very diverse. I can go from Gerrard Butler in a gladiator outfit (phew, hot flush) to the divine Niles from Fraser. [loving the word divine at the mo, so please excuse excessive use]
I always say looks never bothered me, at the tender age of 14 I fell in love with Galen from Planet of the Apes, I saw past the unusal features and the excessive body hair hair, I just loved him. Sadly, I kind of stuck with that whole simian thing for many years thereafter, which is a whole other story. Don't worry, I will give you fair warning so you can get the tissues and the gin at the ready, and oy, Helen don't forget the Maltesters (2 boxes for £2.50 in Co-op)! You can have a couple yourself for setting me off giggling.
But back to the perfect man, still smitten with Sheldon at the mo, but will try not to let biase my judgment. To be honest, if I had to go back and start all over again (heaven forbid, phew, its the only thing that puts me off Buddhism, I'm just not sure I could fully commit to that whole coming back again and again, and next time I might come back as a rat), but I digress.
I made some very strange choices when I was young, free and single. Would I really have rolled up me pencil skirt to climb onto the back of a Hells Angel's fake Harley? It wasn't quite the romantic experience I expected. He wasn't a real Hell's Angel and I was no biker chick! I screamed like a banshee nonstop, lost one of my false eyelashes and a stilletto and he cried like a big girl when I threw my remaining shoe at him.
For brevity, I will go off and continue along these thoughts. It is going to be hard to come up with a recipe for the perfect man without my beloved Sheldon being a main ingredient (he is just sooooo cute, pull yourself together woman) and I am torn because Anthony Bourdain (he loves a puff and can cook) has to be in it, ditto Salvador Dali and a couple of table spoons of Mo Molam (also liked a puff and solved Ireland problem) - Not sure if that makes me gay, or just plain wierd, lol.
Saving the best til last, the divine Marlon Brando (yes, smoked the demon weed Bree) whose feet I would have happily died at, the man was a God!
Come on girls, hubble bubble, toil and trouble, who else do you want to chuck in the pot?