The Perfect Man/Woman

[Brighitta]

A little descriptive challenge. Describe the perfect man/woman in your opinion. The best one will get a prize!

[victoria]

Wow, that's amazingly hard to do... I'll try to think of something, but it's really hard!

[strangexgirl]

I'll totally work on this , and post it in the next few days hopefully

[subtlecollision]

I know, it's not the descriptive piece that you asked for, but it's just a bunch of thoughts I had.



The perfect man does not ask 'how are you?', but 'how is today?'

He stares into your eyes even when you are averting yours.

He always seems to come back.

He cherishes you as if you are a goddess.

He hugs you when you're cold.

He likes your faults becauses he thinks they make him worthy of you.

He bestows you with sparkly, and/or shiny objects.

He reads classic books aloud to you as the male characters and, if you fall asleep, continues by playing the female characters in a silly, whisper of a voice.

He wants everyone to know that you love him.

He replays the conversations you've had with him over and over again in his head-- even if you were arguing about 'the yummiest ice cream flavor in the world.'

He is always there.

He smiles as if you said something funny, when you actually did not say anything at all.

He can be silly and witty or serious and pensive-- and sometimes a combination of the two.

He is more than capable of agreeing to disagree.

He can hardly think about himself without thinking about you.

The perfect makes you feel amazing.

[victoria]

"He stares into your eyes even when you are averting yours"

Amen to that!!! That actually gave me butterflies just reading it, hehe.

[strangexgirl]

Hm, I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I usually don't write in first person, and it seems a little oddly written to me, but it's what came out. It's based on my boyfriend..

The perfect man sits on the couch next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist. We sit in comfortable silence, as he reads a few of my short stories, while I'm immersed in the last captivating chapter of his most recent novel.

On the table nearby sits his pager, cell, and radio, easy to reach should he get called in to fight a fire. He'd rather just sit here with me on his day off, but will do the right thing and go in if he's needed to help. I know if he goes in, he'll call me as soon as he can; he always calls after he leaves a fire, just to let me know that he's all right.

He laughs out loud as he reads a funny bit in the story, looking at me and smiling before going back to his reading. His smile is warm and real, and lights up his entire face – and mine. His smile is always like that.

After we've finished reading and discussing, with me listening to his witty commentary on my story, he sets the documents on the table and leans against the arm of the couch. Smirking, he pulls me with him, kissing me lightly before he grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and covers us with it, cuddling up with me for our ritual lazy-day-off nap. He whispers that he loves me, playing with my hair until I fall asleep before drifting off himself.

I wake up before he does, and lay there with him – he worked the night before, after all. As I watch him sleep, I realize how perfect he is; he's literate, loving, compassionate, and full of life. He's serious when he needs to be, but knows when to use his wit to cheer me up. He picks me up and gives me great big spinning hugs when he hasn't seen me in a while, even if we're in public. He doesn’t boss me around, but he cares about my general well-being and mentions it if he thinks I'm not being exactly safe or healthy. He makes sure my favorite kind of ice cream is in the freezer when it's that time of the month. He doesn't lie to make me feel better. And he's adorable when he sleeps.

As if realizing I'm thinking about him, he opens his eyes sleepily and smiles as he looks up at me. "I love it when you're the first thing I see when I wake up," he says, stretching before wrapping his arms around me again. I snuggle up against him, and he kisses the top of my head, pulling the blanket more snugly around us and wrapping his arms tighter around me, so we can stay warm and fall back to sleep.

He lightly rubs my back, knowing I often have problems sleeping. He'll stay awake until I've drifted off again, just like he usually does. I feel myself start to doze again, enveloped in his hold and his clean scent. As I lay there, completely happy with everything in life for that moment, I know I've finally snagged the perfect man for me.

[jane]

ahh, sorry it took me so long to post!

i liked this a lot, its very genuine, and not overly romantic, just real. I really like the part about his smile lighting up your face! I've felt something like that before, someone smiled at me and it made me feel giddy. 8)

[Catherine]

Who, Jaen??? If you don't mind me asking

[jane]

Well, when people in general, especially boys, smile at me I feel giddy because I like when other people are happy...but the particular giddy smile I was talking about was with my friend Charlie, and, for Catherine and the rest of you, I am not at all attracted to him so I don't know why his smile made me feel giddy, maybe it was because I hadn't seen him for awhile when it happened.

[jane]

he rarely smiles over something genuine? What do you mean? oh, and actually he doesn't like me as more than a friend, which is a good thing because I don't like him.

[strangexgirl]

jane said:

i liked this a lot, its very genuine, and not overly romantic, just real. I really like the part about his smile lighting up your face! I've felt something like that before, someone smiled at me and it made me feel giddy. 8)

Thanks! I was hoping that was how it would come out

[Catherine]

Well, I suppose I may as well take a stab at this one, as it's something I think about a lot, anyway. ;D



Being with the perfect man is as close as you will ever come to being in heaven while on earth. Knowing him, you forget about yourself completely. A state of perfect bliss takes hold of you, just from knowing he exists, and knowing that, furthermore, he is yours and you are his makes you feel so indescribably happy you nearly cry. One look in his eyes, and you feel, past all doubt, that he is sent by God.

He understands you so well that you never have to apologize, and you tell him truly that he never has to either, but he does anyway because he can't stand the thought of hurting you. He cares more for you than for himself. When you are feeling unhappy for no particular reason he fills you with a wonder at all the little things around you. He has a deep connection with the world around him, and a deeper one to you. Sometimes, he still gets nervous around you, no matter how long you've known him, but other times, there is such a comfort between you that you feel like one being. His favortie thing to do is lay next to you in perfect silence and stare up at the stars. Other activities he enjoys are reading aloud to you, having deep conversations with you, watching you sleep, and making you happy. He loves to do little things for you. Or big things. He loves to do anything for you. He can read your mind: when you're tired, he knows it and takes you home. If you're sad, he knows just how to cheer you up. He takes you on surprise outings, always just where you want to go. You have to argue with him to let you pay every time. He devotes whole weekends to you. He leaves you random messages in any way possible just to let you know that he's thinking of you. He makes you feel like a goddess.

BUT at the same time, he does not make you his goddess. He does not make you his sole reason to live, although he can sometimes make you feel that way. He does not ditch his friends to be with you. He does not think about you more than he thinks about God. He does not worship you or make you his idol. He does not let you take the place of his faith, his family, or his friends. He knows himself well and has a life separate from you: he could live without you. He just doesn't want to.

[Liz]

Nice, Catherine. I like the part about not ditching his friends to be with you, it always ticks me off when guys do that...makes me feel awkward.

Okay, so I took a stab at this too...it turned out a little longer than I expected, and is probably really uber sappy, but that's me. Anyway, here it is.


He gives killer hugs.

That’s the first thing everyone says when his name is mentioned, and I have to admit that there’s no competition. Something about being held in his arms, something about the faintly piney scent of him, something about the light tickle of his breaths against my skin…something about him is undeniably safe. He’s about two inches taller than me, making his shoulder the perfect place to rest my head, and making him tall enough that I can wear heels without feeling awkward.

But he gives hugs to everyone. What make him truly amazing are the qualities that he only shows to me. The way his storm-grey eyes glow when they meet mine, the way that he knows exactly when to be quiet and when to make me laugh. The way he can tell when my shoulders are tense, or when I have a headache. He sings songs to me that no one knows he wrote. No one knows he can sing, though his deep, rich voice ought to make it obvious. No one knows that he draws, either. But his notebooks are filled with sketches: plants, buildings, and me, all captured perfectly in pencil, and hidden away where no one will ever see them. He never is too busy to read something I’ve written, never too busy to run lines with me, never too busy to just hold me, or cuddle with me on his couch that smells like oranges.

In all honesty, the fact that he’s amazingly cute is just an added perk. Admittedly it is a very nice added perk, but he’d still be the best guy I’ve ever met if he wasn’t anything special appearance-wise. I’ve always had a thing for dark haired guys, and his hair is perfect; chocolate brown and just long enough that he always is blowing it out of his eyes, and the perfect length to run my fingers though. His eyes are like no other eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re the color of storm clouds, with veins of ocean blue running through them. Strange as it sounds though, my favorite part of his physicalness are his hands. Powerful hands, and large enough to envelop mine completely. His nails are always clean. It’s surprising how much that makes a difference to me. And they always smell like graphite, fresh cut wood, or the piney scent that hangs over the rest of him.

He brings me gifts for no reason at all. One time he bought me a rose in the middle of January, just because he couldn’t wait until February. He knows my locker combination, so nearly every day I find something in there, even if it’s just a note written in his tiny, graceful handwriting with a little sketch on the bottom.

He seems to be touching me nearly every moment we’re together; maybe that’s why I always feel so safe and protected around him. Even when we’re sitting next to each other in classes, our elbows are touching, or are feet are brushing against each other. And whenever he’s behind me, he rubs my shoulders or plays with my hair.


Whenever I’m sick, he’s at my house the instant he hears. Or if I’m too contagious to see him, he calls me and we talk for hours. And the instant I’m well again, he’s there with flowers, chocolate, a card, and a warm hug. All the care I get almost makes being sick worth it.

He’s immensely loyal and dependable, no matter what the circumstances. He’s never missed one of my plays, never missed a piano recital, never not been there when I asked him to be. He once cancelled a job interview to see me play Lady Macbeth, though I expressly forbid him to do so. I tried to be angry with him when he ran up to me after the performance with an armful of my favorite orange roses, but as you can imagine, it was a useless effort.

That’s another thing; it’s impossible to be angry with him for more than a few minutes. The instant my temper rises, he’s so sincerely apologetic that it’s hopeless trying to stay mad. And no matter what I do, he’s never angry with me. It’s nice to have someone who loves me just as much at my worst as at my best. But he’s honest; when I’m doing something stupid or dangerous, he doesn’t hesitate to tell me. It’s never hurtful, the way he says it. Even my best friend isn’t as remarkably tactful.

Occasionally I don’t feel like I deserve him. I know very well that he could get any girl he wants, but he never shows any interest in other girls. I asked him why one time, and he only laughed and said that any guy who wouldn’t pick me over any other girl is crazy.

He says things like that, almost like poetry, seemingly without even trying. And I can tell that what he’s saying isn’t fake or scripted just by looking into his eyes.

Whatever we’re doing, we never get bored in each other’s company. Even doing homework together, or watching stupid movies, we have fun. Even if neither of us says a word, all he has to do is smile at me and nothing can touch me.

[Catherine]

Wow