The Perfect Man

So on the way out of the Oxford a few Furry Friday’s ago, crossing the road to get a cab home, I lock eyes with a very handsome guy. Like, wow! He’s walking with his mate, but three beats later there's the look back and the continued gaze across the traffic. Eyes locked. One of those eight-lanes-of-traffic-crossing looks. I hesitated… should I semaphore a mobile number? Should I run back? Should I see if he will run back? But I had to get in the cab: it was late, I was tired, my place wasn't free and worse, the babysitting meter was still running at home. 

Did I have to get in the cab? I guess not. So why did I? I've thought long and hard about this. I think the real reason I didn't run back is that all I could think was, "it doesn't get any better than this". In that moment he was the PERFECT man. No, really. PERFECT. I didn't have to learn about his issues, or his baggage, meet his parents, share the couch with him or the remote, deal with his ex, his protestations of monogamy, or any of that plethora of other stuff that just gums up relationships. For that exquisite moment he was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Why would I think such a thing? Have I really given up, and not in a cool “all attachment is pain” Zen kind of way? 

I’m currently blaming Disney. Sure I cried in Kung Fu Panda (“I’m not A big fat panda, I’m THE big fat panda”), and Brother Bear (c'mon – three brothers in the wilderness, and bears!), and I thought Aladdin was a hottie (even though some may say I had more in common with Princess Jasmin). Has Disney been setting me up to fail every time? Apart from creating more orphans than the entire second world war (do any of them have two parents?) they've trained me to expect happy-every-after, but not what I need to do when happy-ever-after starts. The training for that part seems to be having a stretch, shaking off the popcorn, taking off your 3D glasses and emerging into the daylight blinking and into a life that seems, well, ordinary. Then again maybe that’s exactly the right training. If you've taken off the glasses and there’s no more popcorn and he’s still there, that’s a good sign. And if he looks even slightly more than ordinary he’s possibly a keeper. 

Anime rocks! Even mainstream American anime. 

Oh, and to the perfect guy whose face could launch a thousand ships, you know who you are. Call me!