So, not to long ago, I made a list. The things my guy must and cannot be. I thought some of my faithful readers (because they're the only ones still here, sorry for the lack of posts guys) would like to see it.
Here it is, in no particular order.
MUST BE:
A christian (This one is in order. it's the first thing i look for. he doesn't have to be a bible thumper, but he has to have some concept of God, and accept it ,as truth),
sweet,
accepting of children with disabilities,
romantic (i am a HOPELESS romantic),
intelligent,
funny,
accepting of my off key singing (inside joke),
nice looking (he can't be ugly, but he doesn't have to be brad pitt),
someone who enjoys books (because i heart reading, like the dork i am),
able to joke around, but know when to be serious,
willing to sit through a chick flick (or a conversation about periods),
faithful to me, and all he does,
And last but no least (actually this should go second) he must need me. he can't be whole, in any manner. then there is no place for me to fit in.
HE CAN'T:
be totally and completely perverted,
argue with me all the time, about everything,
smoke/drink/do drugs,
be a lazy bum,
have any problems with kids with disabilities,
want anything more then i'm willing to give him before marriage,
be over 1 year younger then me,
be gone all the time, either with a job(which doesn't apply much yet) or with his friends or whatever. i need time too,
ever even THINK about another girl (as anything other then a friend)
Thoughts? Questions? Concerns?
Everyone has a story. Sometimes their story is sad, sometimes their story is happy, sometimes their story is complicated. Each and every story is unique, with it's own beginning, middle and end. This is my story.
Showing posts with label guys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guys. Show all posts
Monday, June 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Used car, anyone?
Finding the right guy is like shopping for a used car. Not like I have personally, but I have been with people who have.
You pull up in the dealership, and they show you the first car on the lot, that somewhat matches what you want. A test drive proves it's not the one you want. The wheel shakes, or the breaks don't work, or you can't get a good radio station. So you move on to the next one.
As you continue this ritual, you eventually glimpse a car, and immediately want that one more then any other car on the lot. So you point it out, and the dealer smiles. As you approach it, bask in its glory of used-dom, you fall in love even more. You reach for the handle, and when you open the door one of two things happen. Either you sit down and it's perfect in every way, not a fault that really matters to be seen. Or, you sit down and it's nothing you thought. The windshield wipers squeak, there is a stain on the carpet, the door only closes all the way sometimes and the radio only works on Wednesdays.
When the former happens, you buy the car on the spot and never have another worry. But when the latter happens, your heart breaks in two, and you crawl out slowly. Riding home afterwards, you tell yourself you're never going to buy another car. But inside, you know you'll be back next weekend.
You pull up in the dealership, and they show you the first car on the lot, that somewhat matches what you want. A test drive proves it's not the one you want. The wheel shakes, or the breaks don't work, or you can't get a good radio station. So you move on to the next one.
As you continue this ritual, you eventually glimpse a car, and immediately want that one more then any other car on the lot. So you point it out, and the dealer smiles. As you approach it, bask in its glory of used-dom, you fall in love even more. You reach for the handle, and when you open the door one of two things happen. Either you sit down and it's perfect in every way, not a fault that really matters to be seen. Or, you sit down and it's nothing you thought. The windshield wipers squeak, there is a stain on the carpet, the door only closes all the way sometimes and the radio only works on Wednesdays.
When the former happens, you buy the car on the spot and never have another worry. But when the latter happens, your heart breaks in two, and you crawl out slowly. Riding home afterwards, you tell yourself you're never going to buy another car. But inside, you know you'll be back next weekend.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Ugh.
Trying to get a guy to notice you is like trying to nail jello to a tree. It just can't be done. No matter how much you think the tree wants the jello, needs the jello, should hold the jello and love it, the tree doesn't agree, or takes no notice. So, after begging, pleading, dressing the jello up in really nice clothes, jumping around, screaming and crying, you resort to nailing it to the tree, and the tree STILL wont accept the flipping jello.
And guys are the EXACT same way. The only way to get their attention, other then grabbing their face and screaming "I LOVE YOU", is to wear skirts revealing your underwear and shirts revealing other things. Which is absolutely ridiculous. There should be no need for that sort of thing. Girls should be able to dress modestly and cover themselves and still be found attractive. But do they? No. All guys want to do is look for hot girls and stare at their butts. Or their boobs, if they have nice ones. So girls give them what they want. We dress like hookers so these guys, that we are convinced we need, will notice us and give us the attention that we are also convinced we need.
When will they grow up?
...When will we grow up?
I love high school.
And guys are the EXACT same way. The only way to get their attention, other then grabbing their face and screaming "I LOVE YOU", is to wear skirts revealing your underwear and shirts revealing other things. Which is absolutely ridiculous. There should be no need for that sort of thing. Girls should be able to dress modestly and cover themselves and still be found attractive. But do they? No. All guys want to do is look for hot girls and stare at their butts. Or their boobs, if they have nice ones. So girls give them what they want. We dress like hookers so these guys, that we are convinced we need, will notice us and give us the attention that we are also convinced we need.
When will they grow up?
...When will we grow up?
I love high school.
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