My ideal girl is one who is quiet, calm, and reserved. Speaking only when spoken to, she fulfills her rank as a noncommissioned officer in the patriarchy. She’s the type of girl who’s an undergrad for ‘backup’ in case she doesn’t find anyone. I think we should at least humor girls though when they tell us it’s been their lifelong goal to be something like an Orthopedic Surgeon or some other polysyllabic career that I refuse to try to pronounce. A fleeting imagination can be cute at times.
Who knows, their disfigurement might resemble Condi Rice enough to be forced into being independent. It’s sad, but no one remembers when Hunan threw himself in front of Avetis’ pistol, which allowed his girlfriend to pass through turrets of hermaphrodite comments at Novoro Beach.
She has to be Armenian, because they’re the only ones who still have that coveted V-card. I find it a responsibility that all Armenian guys should make sure their sisters and girlfriends stay ‘clean’ until the holy Karmir Khndzor. This can be ensured by depicting a demeanor of staunch intimidation to maintain the imbalance in the relationship, and any mistake will lead to a beating worse than a slave who tried to make it to the North.
But, I don’t understand how much danger boyfriends put their girls in at times. Dance clubs? Bars? The Galleria? Andy and Harut concerts? Museums? Did you at least wait to ask me before you became a slut?
Guys that ask them to dance are masters of rhetoric, sophists if you will, and these poor girls barely last longer than a supply of free Kebabs. It starts off with a hello, and before you know it, ends with a hug goodbye. She might as well put her ankles behind her ears.
I haven’t seen that kind of vulnerability since I last saw a guy who refused to put lock on his girlfriend’s cage. It’s fine if she has a seemingly arbitrary penchant for hookah, it’s filtered, because in the least their wishbone stays intact. Don’t worry about us men though, there’s plenty of aid in Hollywood to help us clear the cobwebs in our pants.
She has to be passionate. We have to have an uncontrollable fire in each others’ hearts. Each time we have an intimate moment alone, we lust to melt into each other from across the room before her brother walks back from taking a few drags. But I always leave a little mystery, so it takes well over a few days for her to appreciate my complexities. I have a fairly large reservoir of ethnocentricity, even though I accidentally confused Tom Clancy as a crab broiler and when I thought I needed fertilizer to grow foie grass. Not to mention when I said that I didn’t drink when someone asked if I liked Magritte.
I’ll never get tired of all the Cosby turtlenecks she wears when we’re out on dates. She sometimes shows some skin and leaves her scarf behind in the car. And if I pick up the tab after the meal I guarantee myself some eye contact later at night. Now confidence is sexy, but arrogance is definitely a turn off. Suggesting drastic things like keeping her last name when we get married, having guy friends, and constructing sentences is out of line. With all that stepping on my toes, I might as well say R.I.P. to my boner.
Amongst all these expectations, there has to be compromise. No one is perfect, and I can’t expect everyone to be open-minded to my relatively liberal deals. That’s why I listed myself as a liberal on Facebook.
I do understand that she probably won’t make out with me until eight months of dating, but it’s a shame that all that practice with VirtualGirl 2.0 will have to wait to be put to use.
I don’t know where to meet my ideal girl though. I mean, I haven’t had much luck with blasting Andy in residential neighborhoods, and asking the time doesn’t get that far. Nothing works at Hookah lounges since most of the time I get confused for a hobbit and always end up getting my necklace examined. I guess that’s why my cousin has his eyebrows better shaped than Giselle’s physique.
But until that perfect girl comes, I can’t get pessimistic or jaded. I’ve got a wallet full of singles and a stack of passes to keep me occupied until she does.
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