I was in Walthamstow the other day, and I saw these two office workers with over-gelled hair, and cheap grey suits, and I loved them, because one was so gangly and hilarious, and the other was so stocky and chippy.
When I say I ‘loved’ them, really I mean I laughed at them, and fully recognised that I wouldn’t have gone out with either of them, because I instinctively knew that they had nothing for me, and I : (peri-menopausal, cantankerous, quirky) had nothing they would have understood as even relevant in a female. There would be proper women, though, with straightened hair and tanned cleavage that would maybe fit their bill, just as I have categories of men that I am by nature predestined to fancy, no matter what their actual personality : and here is an in no particular order list :
I know that I am not the only woman suffering from serial tree-surgeon fancying, but I do have it quite badly : i do a sort of meerkat thing at the sound of a chainsaw : “oo! chainsaw! tree surgeons!!”
In case I need to explain : Tree Surgeons are all muscly (it’s a physical job!) they climb up trees and do nifty things with ropes and cool tools : Ladies, I give you the Silky Big Boy :
Have you ever read a sexier description of a piece of hardware than that? These men also tend to be chilled out, fun loving, with environmentalist leanings, and an appealing propensity to living life in the here and now. I am so genetically predisposed that even the nasty run-in I had with one a few years ago, of which the outcome was my single motherhood, has failed to cure me even slightly.
My propensity to fancy Vicars (yes, the ludicrous collars, yes, the weird robes) is not, as you might think, the product of any kind of religious upbringing. But maybe the (clang! freudian) clue is in their title of ‘Father’ : what I am channeling here is the kindly, avuncular, grey-jumper-wearing loveliness of a nice country vicar : think of someone like : OO Tom Hollander in that tv series, filmed in Hackney.
Luckily I don’t get operated on very often, but there was one time when I had an embarrassing problem in an embarrassing area, and I took it to UCL, where I was gifted with a really pretty gorgeous man, dressed in those strangely attractive V-necked turquoise scrubs. Oh the wry irony of whipping off my knickers at his behest, but for purely diagnostic reasons. This happened to me again, only recently ; I was having my face moles removed at the Homerton, and they had drawn big arrows on my face, in biro, pointing to the area (and probably written ‘I’m with stupid’ as well!) and then sent me out to the waiting room : to be laughed at? I was blogging on my netbook, as you do, when A Gorgeous, Tall Black Surgeon with a posh voice came and started talking to me. We could be married by now, possibly, if it hadn’t been for the foolish biro.
I also like Paramedics (especially on motorbikes : see below) and male nurses, but strangely not dentists. I also don’t especially fancy firemen or policemen, although I know they are popular with many other women.
Not mopeds. Or pizza delivery men. Not sensible upright-looking bikes with windshields, but those motorbikes that you have to straddle leaning forward and hang on for grim death once they start off. Oh and this is the only situation where an outfit composed entirely of leather would not only be acceptable, but really very welcome.
5.Hippies with dreadlocks
White men with big dreadlocks : they have to be a bit attractive as well, obviously, and I am not especially drawn to hippies per se, but I will always leer at a good set of pretend dreads (I also like dreadlocks on black men, by the way).
Now, in case, you are wondering where this pleasurable meander through my sexual proclivities might be taking us : here it is : I google image searched my fancying keywords and this is what I got : could be my ideal man….
Except unfortunately this is actually a woman.
And that is what you get if you are trusting Mother Nature (or Google) to find you lasting relationship happiness. She doesn’t care whether you can talk to each other, or still be friends after thirty years of marriage : her job is done once you have met someone and fancied them enough to do the nasty. If you want someone you can stand to be with you have to exercise a bit of restraint as well as a lot of judgement, and be prepared to put in the time making sure your candidate is suitable. That’s why, if you aren’t a vicar or a tree surgeon, don’t have dreadlocks, or a motorbike, or work in a hospital : still, you could be my perfect man.