The List. In February of 2014 I wrote a list. A list of things that I want in a partner. The list at the time was important. It consisted of a number of prerequisites that at the ripe old age of thirty-three were very, very important. It is almost October and in two months I am staring down the barrel of thirty-five. In my teens, two years was a lifetime. In my twenties, two years was a minute. In my early thirties, two years is somebody else’s lifetime. The clock is ticking, and it is ticking loudly.
So with the second hand chime of a freaking large grandfather clock ticking constantly in my head, I thought it might be a good time to revisit the list. The list of an optimistic woman who still had five or six years before the expiration of her ovaries seems to be comparably different than that of a woman whose ovaries best before date is due to expire in two. The list – as it stood – in all its optimism.
Funny, Generous of heart, Traveller, Active, Intelligent, Social, Fun, Open minded about sex, Ballsy, Individual, Logical and Practical, Spontaneous.
This is the list. In the original blog there was an expansion of each one, but you get the general idea. I wanted someone who could complement my life. Work in conjunction with, make me a better woman, kind of complement my life. With two years left to find a ‘traditional’ approach to ovary lift off, it’s probably time to redefine the list.
Funny. I laugh more than enough for an entire family of humans, being funny – can go.
Generous of heart. Well that one seems hard to get rid of. I am possibly an overspender, an oversharer and an overgiver. With all of that over’ing’ I think I’ll still need a man who is generous of heart. Well, generous of heart and sperm.
Traveller. Going on holidays to Cotton Tree Caravan Park counts, right? That’ll do.
Active. Everybody moves in some way. That’s a given tick. It can stay too.
Intelligent. Intelligence is measured in so many different ways. Who am I to judge what is intelligent? Just because you’re not good at conversation, reading, understanding, listening doesn’t mean you’re not intelligent in some other way. I’m happy to investigate.
Social. Overrated. We can be social, in bed and at home on the couch. That will work.
Fun. I am fun. He doesn’t need to be.
Open minded about sex. Not negotiable. Keeping that one.
Ballsy. Life would be easier with a yes man. What was I thinking wanting to be challenged. Dumb.
Individual. It’s ok. I can buy clothes at Kmart and when the occasion calls for it tie a tie. It’ll be ok. I can match his socks – we’ll just buy all black ones.
Logical and Practical. Surely that’s a skill I can learn at some point.
Spontaneous. Predictable seems to be a more realistic goal in order to raise children, that can go too.
So what’s left… Generous of heart and sperm, active ‘ish’ and open minded about sex. That seems to be about it but somehow I’m not sure this list is discerning enough. Let’s add a few more. Breathing, teeth and a job. There’s no need to get rid of those but what else is important in an ovary starter? The only thing that is really important in an ovary starter is real, live sperm and I can get that in a jar. Sperm these days can be bought. I don’t need a man to have a baby and I certainly can check all of those qualities on a sperm donor database to ensure my offspring has the best chance it can at being well balanced. (With me, that’s an important head start to have.) I can get a generational medical history, a description of the donor, a picture of them as a child and a personal essay that describes why they have donated sperm in the first place. It seems sperm doesn’t hold up as a real reason to redefine the list.
The list, at the ripe old age of almost thirty-five, is still almost irrelevant. The list is an idea. A representation and articulation of something that I once thought I wanted. Almost two years on from the trials of what other people call dating, what I wanted is no longer what I want. The list has changed. It has changed since the day I first wrote one at the ‘dumb ass’ age of eighteen. (A football playing, ute driver no longer makes an appearance anywhere in any of my lists – I have no excuses for being so shit and shallow.) Two years out from THE date where I take my own future into my own hands, there’s still a thousand reasons to wait for what I want. So at almost thirty-five, what do I want?
I want to be wanted. (And I don’t necessarily mean just in the sexy time kind of way – although that will help. I mean wanted in the sense that he wants to spend time with me, see me, talk to me, listen to me, be with me! Get your dirty little heads out of the gutter.) At the end of the day it’s not about the kind of home a man can provide, the income he makes, his job title, his perceived intelligence, the girth of his paunch or the length of his disappearing hair. Chivalry is not dead and I refuse to believe it so. I want what all women want. A man who wants me, listens to me and wants me to be the best version of me. But that’s not where it ends. I want to give that too. I want to want someone so badly that I notice when they are missing, to listen and wants them to be all that they want to be.
The rest is irrelevant. I’ll take the paunch, the hairloss, ex-wives, other people’s children, the weird addictions and possibly obsessive behaviours of a single fully grown man. At the end of the day, compromising on being wanted is not a compromise I’m willing to make. Near enough isn’t good enough in the dating pool. The list is short gentleman, but it’s a quality list that you deserve as much as I do. So let’s continue with the wait shall we? The list is revised, the wait will be worth it. And if the wait is endless, so be it. My life doesn’t need a man, it just wants one.
I’m pretty sure this is him. #justsayin #hecanmakemeaswing
life in big frilly knickers 