Why I am Perfect

Well, not entirely. You have to admit, though, that I am in many ways the ideal woman for your average straight guy. Have your doubts? No worries, all will be proven with convincing evidence in short order. But first let me voice my hesitation about publishing the list of my stellar and not so stellar qualities below. After doing a live interview on NPR New Hampshire Thursday morning—listen to it of your own free will or die!—I considered fast-tracking one of my more creative and literary blog post ideas, ie. the one called ‘The Round and the Furry,’ in which I parody and ultimately improve upon the work of William Faulkner. I imagined that savvy new American fans might prefer to read something engaging or challenging, something about the history of the body or health, something witty and profound. But instead they get to hear about me and my vagina. Again. Yes, I have succumbed to our current culture of self-indulgence and narcissism, and even a little self pity. What sparked it? As you know, I am currently in a longterm, stable, let’s-agree-to-take-each-other-for-granted relationship, and often listen to the dating woes of single ladies. I shake my head, widen my eyes, and regularly say ‘what a jerk,’ or ‘he is an idiot.’ All the while, I am hiding my terror. What if I were suddenly single? Not that being uncoupled is so bad, especially if avoiding it involves dating such local ass clowns. But would I ever get lucky again? I mean, with a person that I liked, and not just by myself or while doing wide grin chin ups? [Right back at you, sexy chain link weight belt.] Probably not, but just in case my singularity ever happens, for whatever reason, I feel that I should be ready with an honest account of what I can and cannot offer. I will then be prepared for those online dating sites, or speed drills, or whatever it is you crazy kids do today.

Question One: What do you consider the most important quality in a man? Answer: Gratitude.

Question Two: What do you consider your good points? Answer: Well, there are quite a few, including:

I hate chick flicks. I have never seen Titanic, much less that one with the toothy gigantess, Eat, Stray, Puke

I love man movies, like Anchorman and Kick Ass and MacGruber

I also like most man music, including anything drony and loud, with nasty lyrics. I nevertheless confess to having enjoyed the Rihanna songs played during the free TRX group ex class at the Crunch gym in New York. Obviously, that was a special, not to mention giddy, circumstance.

I need my me time and realize that you need yours too, especially when you first get home from work. I will fuck right off and you can play that noisy video game that features caped men as long as you like, while I read about feminist phenomenology.

I don’t really care where you are and what you are doing most of the time, as long as you are not putting your cock (or any of your appendages for that matter) into other women.  

I don’t think that everything is about me. This characteristic—based more on conceit than modesty—also makes me a pretty good friend, for whenever you are pissy I will assume that you are having personal problems that have nothing to do with me. On the downside, I will be slow to notice if you actually have a hate on for me.

I will shout at people who drive slowly or cut you off in traffic, sparing you the trouble.

I don’t need to know everything about you and your past. So shut the fuck up about those Sunday roast beef-Yorkshire pudding dinners at granny’s house. That dream is dead.

I am a good earner. With my secure salary, financial investments, extended health coverage, and pension plan, I can live happily without changing my lifestyle, should you suddenly get run over by a bus or something like that. 

I am loyal to a fault. If anyone disses you I will instantly hate their guts, and I will hate them forever.

I will never disrespect you in public (or at home for that matter). Please note that respect does not entail obedience of any kind.

I do not need to text or call you every minute of every day. And you’d better not bug the shit out of me either.

I will not reveal intimate secrets about you to my friends, only on my public blog site.

I admire man friendship and will never interfere with any of yours.

I hate shopping.

On a related point, I won’t buy you clothes or tell you what to wear. I won’t even know what size your clothes are, nor will I ever attempt to learn this information.

I will never comment negatively on your appearance. Though you might want to take my positive remarks about that guy in a chicken suit handing out flyers on the corner as a hint for my Valentine’s ‘surprise.’

In truth, I don’t bother with Valentine’s day or any other ridiculously commercialized romance ritual meant to produce both capitalist profit and an acquiescently manageable population. That includes weddings. 

I won’t ever want to ‘talk about the relationship.’

I am fun loving and energetic and will make you laugh at least once a day.

I bake brownies on command. Or protein pudding. Or anything else.

I have a pretty great body, if I do say so myself. Enjoy!

I won’t bore you with talk about my workplace or departmental politics. Mostly because I do not give a shit about them.

I have a high sex drive and sense of adventure. I would add ‘in the bedroom’ but that is far too limiting for me. You might want to invest in rock climbing equipment and protective gear. And a gag so as not to bother the neighbours with your screaming and what not.

I have always found the following song lyrics in Jay-Z’s Hard Knock Life hilarious: ‘And if you with me mom I rub on your tits and what not; I’m from the school of the hard knocks.’ Far be it from me to make assumptions, but if someone mentioned their mother and then described future sexual activity as rubbing on my ‘what not,’ I would presume them to be both uninformed and inattentive, then ban them from approaching all of my what nots.

Question Three: Do you have any weaknesses? Answer: Yes indeed, and here are just a few of them:

I won’t humour you. If you are being an idiot, I will say so.

I will not tolerate any of the following: racism, sexism, homophobia, religious bigotry, stupidity, ignorance. If you are cursed with any of these personality flaws go fuck yourself. (This is clearly a strength more than a weakness but I think it will significantly limit my dating chances, don’t you?)

I won’t make many sacrifices for you. Only a few minor ones, like giving up cheese and drinking lactose free milk.

I won’t ever want to ‘talk about the relationship.’ Timely warning: Every few years or so, I will have a queen-sized hissy fit that involves smashing things. I won’t want to talk about that either.

Every morning I will insist that you pick me up and shake me until my back makes a cracking noise. You will not enjoy this man-duty.

If I had to choose between you and my career, I would choose my career.

I will not attend all of your work or family events. Maybe a few, but only if I happen to feel like it that day. On the plus side, you do not have to participate in any of mine either.

I will make you use air freshener in the bathroom. This is non-negotiable. And you should still do it even when I am not home.

I am a clean freak. This quality goes both ways, for I view it as a personal flaw and thus readily perform about 90% of the housework. However, I will not stand for untidiness and this is a deal breaker. Don’t like that? Well then don’t let the sanitized door hit your ass on the way out (and why not take the garbage along since you are going that way?). 

I will not drink heavily or eat like a pig very often. Just sometimes.

I am sexually demanding. So you’d better get some rest. On the bright side: I am easily pleased so you won’t need to work that hard. Think quantity, not quality.

I really like men and will flirt with some of them. Sorry.

I will leave for annual research trips for up to six weeks at a time. I might call you every five days or so, but I might not because I hate talking on the phone. On the other hand, you can sometimes come with me to Italy, the south of France, or China, as my freeloading bitch. 

I will trust you without question, but if you break that trust I will stab you.

You are not always on my mind.

Not you, salacious readers. I think about you constantly. And that is why I will recognize your superior intelligence with a more inspiring post next time. Until then, my dating code is: fucksticks666. Drop me a line to get on the ‘just in case’ waiting list. Or not.

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About feministfiguregirl

I am a 51-year-old professor named Lianne McTavish who receives as much satisfaction from working out at the gym as from publishing my academic research. About eight years ago, I decided to combine my two primary identities (scholar/gym rat) to create "Feminist Figure Girl," a fictional character who both analyzes and participates in bodybuilding. I competed in my first figure show in June of 2011, and then wrote a book inspired by the process, published by SUNY Press in February 2015. In this blog I will write about and consider my ongoing research on the body, while regularly making fun of myself. I recommend that you start reading my first post from August 2010 (available on the home page), instead of backwards from the most recent one, in order to get the full FFG effect.

12 thoughts on “Why I am Perfect

  1. Sounds like my last gf except
    – “I don’t need to know everything about you and your past ”
    – “I won’t bore you with talk about my workplace or departmental politics.”
    – “I don’t want kids”
    were lies

    That should explain why that relationship needed to end

  2. SO good..I read it twice. I can relate to many of the things you write about regarding needs and wants. I think you and I are going to have a long lasting friendship!!

  3. So what your’re saying is… you are totally self focused. That’s cool, but why be in a relationship at all? Seems like a contractual partnership or fuck buddy would satisfy that manifesto of “Me”.

    Not that there’s anything wrong with anything, I’m just not gonna humor you by giving you the obviously desired “You go girl”. You sound like so many of the men that I don’t care to understand. I just don’t get…. but I will give you props for saying”fuck it”. Who cares about anything anyway? Not the worst way to live, but who could ever trust you and any kind of emotional reciprocity? And why the fuck should anyone. You’re a honey badger, honey badgers don’t give a fuck!

    • First of all let me thank you for giving me a new roller derby girl name: Honey Badger! Is that one taken already? I could be the crazy aggressive enforcer chick who can’t skate very well. But somewhat seriously, I would encourage you to read more of my posts, so as fully to appreciate my FFG persona, which can sometimes be a bit ‘over the top’ for comical effect. Still, I am unsure how trusting my partner, respecting his independence, and making him use Febreeze would lead you to assume that there is nothing emotional about our union — a union that has lasted for 24 years I might add. I am not romantic or clingy or tearful but I love my man. I also love the idea of a fuck buddy. Oops that must be my honey badger talking again.

  4. I have observed that a lot of men tend to be schizo when it comes to deciding what sort of women they want to be with. They claim to be driven crazy by the clingy/romantic/mildly psycho women in their lives – but these men clearly believe that those traits (and shopping, shoe passion, love of chick flicks, etc.) are hard-coded into our XX chromosomes. Women who aren’t like that are dismissed as unfeminine, ball-busters, or mythical creatures. Given the sort of complaints one hears about women from men, you’d think men would prefer to be with women who’ve managed to break out of the feminine stereotype. I suppose such women are perceived as more masculine, and that tweaks the latent (or not so latent) homophobia in less secure men. Unfortunately, there seem to be a lot of those men out there. I think if I found myself suddenly single I would just stay that way. Thinking about dating again, in my forties, makes me sad.

    BTW, “Titanic” does get kind of entertaining in the second half, once the ship starts sinking.

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