I was reading a poetry collection last week called Dying Old and Dying Young, by Susan Williams, and I got a kick out of her poem, “Personals.”
Personals
Looking for a man
who doesn’t know his sign or resting heart rate;
who only runs to catch a bus; can’t tell sushi
from raw fish. Thinks Zinfandel is the guy
who used to star in The FBI. Has no VCR, PC,
IRA, BMW. No vanity plates or gifted kids. No cat
named after a literary figure. No whimsical furniture,
Calvin underwear, Armani suit or silent quartz moment Roles
that beeps on the hour. Doesn’t sleep too well
or smell like Perry Ellis. Completely ignores
at least two of the basic food groups. Can’t remember jokes?
makes up his own. Doesn’t make me talk to his machine.
Never phones me from a tanning booth, sensory deprivation tank,
his briefcase, ex-wife’s condo, a moving vehicle. Always
asks the right questions. Never tries to cheer me up
when I’m sentimentally depressed.
Doesn’t get a hard-on thinking
about compound interest. Doesn’t count my drinks
or try to improve my character
Has no discernable lifestyle.
—Susan Williams
It got me thinking about what we look for in people, and I thought I’d try my hand at a personals-style list poem, too. I had planned to spend more time on it, but a day full of appointments yesterday and a mini-anxiety attack over wardrobe (thanks for all the good fashion advice!) left me with just a second draft so far. It was fun to think about this in a Making Mr. Right kind of way (love that movie). Only considering me, me, me and not the compromise of a real relationship. Just a list of what I want! OK, here goes.