Tuesday, August 08, 2006

What a Woman Wants

A recent post on a friend's blog was the inspiration for this one. In it, she meticulously describes her ideal man. Since the majority of my readers (at least the ones who bother to comment) are women, I can't help but wonder if they have virtually the same image of "the ideal man". And would he be anything like me?

You see, from reading many posts and comments by women over the past few months, I've concluded that most are dreaming of the same "Hemingway-esque" kind of guy. So I decided to channel (It's a gift that I have, thanks. And no, you can't borrow it.) Ernest Hemingway, in order to procure his objective opinion on yours truly. To see how I stack up.

***

Ernest Hemingway's assessment of Puerileuwaite:



"Puerileuwaite was a man's man. Never bothered to ask women out. Didn't have to. He expected it of 'em. Women were not his friends, damn it. They were made for lovin'. Strange women make the best bedfellows, fellows, Puerileuwaite would loudly proclaim after a belt of whiskey.

Chances? Chances were for carnivals, he'd often bellow. Puerileuwaite took risks, not chances. If a woman had the gumption to protest his lurid advances with a "How does never sound?", this mass of masculinity would toss her over his shoulder like a sack of meat. Then he would haul her to his bed for some steamy lovin'. Damn the torpedoes, save for one. Full speed ahead.

Puerileuwaite had little patience for panty-waisted frat boys. He would pound them repeatedly until his knuckles were blood red and bone white. Drinking in moderation and arbitrary curfews were not part of this scrapper's vocabulary. He made his own rules. Which he would then break like Dolly Parton's bra straps at an aerobics workout.

He liked no-nonsense women. But he loved the non-verbal types most of all. He didn't want to be coddled or taken care of. He wanted just two things from women. To see 'em naked, and to see them off. Having no desire to keep a woman, he just wanted to keep 'em from stayin'.

Active, well-educated, outgoing energetic ladies were his prey, and his athletic, muscle-rippled body was the lure. Though not rich, he was financially stable. A one woman at a time kind of guy. A born hell raiser at home, he still enjoyed a night on the town. He worked hard, he played even harder. He drank even harder than that.

He fancied a female companion that he had to be on his toes to keep up with. He knew that a gal had the right to constantly change her mind and mood. And he met this challenge the same as he would in landing a prize-winning marlin. With equal parts patience and tenacity.

He loved a good scrap. He loved to roll up his sleeves over his brawny arms and get dirty. His love of the outdoors found him perpetually in jeans and t-shirts. He hated desks and the khaki-wearing sons of bitches hiding from life behind 'em.

He was a tiger, this one. He wasn't afraid of man or beast when it came to making his principles known clear to each end of a crowded saloon. His balls were the size of coconuts, and just as hard. His head was even harder than that.

To hell with Neil Young, Puerileuwaite would shout. A REAL man doesn't need a maid. Women weren't maids to this man. They had only one purpose. His pleasure. This was how it was gonna be, he would tell them. Leaving little room for doubt or negotiation. Love it or shove it, Clementine. His way or the highway.

He was first and foremost an outlaw lookin' for his next crime spree. A true bad ass cowboy of love. He knew that in the end we are all worm meat anyway. "Savor the wild ride while you can" could've been his motto, had he had the time or patience for one."

***

Thank you, Mr. Hemingway. That was pretty decent of you. I am humbled and flattered. Your endorsement has made me completely mental, I must say.

29 comments:

A Suicide Blonde said...

You sound just about right baby...
I just need to know if you've ever been ridden like a pony- bare back-with a golden chick in the proverbial saddle?
That would be my only request. Well, it would be the first one anyway...

puerileuwaite said...

Today? So far? Why, no. But like Curly said in "City Slickers": "Day ain't over yet.". Would you promise not to sell me to a glue factory? I've been hurt that way before. The first cut is the deepest.

Anyway, I like the cut of your jib, as Ernest might say. Don't be a stranger. Or any stranger than you already are for that matter.

JustRun said...

I think EH needs to write more of my posts. What an honor! ;)

A Suicide Blonde said...

Strange?
You haven't heard the 2nd request yet...
It involves crazy glue, duck feathers and an industrial strength solvent...

lol :)

puerileuwaite said...

JR, you never know when he might make an appearance. When he's not in Pamplona or out at sea, of course. He's unpredictable that way.

puerileuwaite said...

Suicide Blonde, your second request is also not a problem, as I have these items already. You just may be the dame I've been lookin' for, as Ernest might say.

Plus, your name makes it easy to dispose of you (and get away with it) when I'm ready to move on. Okay, I'm kidding about this last part. But I have a hunch that Ernest would've liked your moniker
nonetheless.

jmeped said...

Mr. Hemmingway has a way with words. Who knew you were this take charge? Should I start asking now for you to ravage me now? But then I would just end up in the discard pile, and we all know I am more demanding than that. I think I will settle for the fishing and drinking.

puerileuwaite said...

Jmeped, no need to ask. I'm on it.

jmeped said...

On which? The ravaging, or buying bait?

puerileuwaite said...

Jmeped, that is the beauty and sheer brilliance of "I'm on it".

This simple phrase contains equal parts reassurance and illusion of commitment.

You are so wise to see through my evil ruse. What exactly am I on? You? Bait? Drugs? All three?

This is why my new response in meetings is "I'm all over it". For some reason, I seem to recall this bit from Seinfeld. Something that George would say, most likely.

TheIdleReceptionist said...

Posthumus biographies are hot.

puerileuwaite said...

Thanks TIR. You are not alone. Apparently .0001% of the female population agrees with you. Puerileuwaite is BACK. Oh yeah.

GirlGoyle said...

Would've commented earlier if Blogger wasn't being such a wheenie!!!

So, A bad-ass cowboy with balls as hard as coconuts...sounds intruiguing to say the least. Tho I'm not sure I'd be very keen on the fact that he's into a different maiden for every new voyage so to speak.

Flattered however for having been labled friend. Scary...

leelee said...

WHAT A MAN!!!

puerileuwaite said...

Okay Girlgoyle, I have a few things to say.

Yes, of course I consider you a friend. I've made other friends here as well. (If only you knew how many times I added to this paragraph only to backspace, BTW.) Suffice to say that the concept of friendship is more a series of posts rather than a reply to a comment.

Second, I don't want to creep you out or lead you on with what I'm about to write. But by my count this is the 3rd post that you inspired. (Other bloggers have inspired posts or portions of them as well. Malnurtured Snay, for example. But you are the front-runner.) I wonder if you know all three.

This post started as a comment on your "Fool's Magnet" post from yesterday. I took virtually EVERYTHING that you wrote you were looking for, in order, and carefully created a comment to address each one.

Doing so, I noticed several things:

1) That the man you were describing sounded like he could be an Ernest Hemmingway character.

2) That three of your female commenters agreed with you on this dream guy image.

3) That the comment was post-worthy (by my incredibly low standards, that is).

4) That this image I created (for YOU in particular!) apparently still did not win you over! And I quote: "So, a bad-ass cowboy with balls as hard as coconuts...sounds intriguing to say the least. Tho I'm not sure I'd be very keen on the fact that he's into a different maiden for every new voyage so to speak.".

***

Elliot (Brenden Fraiser): "I'm beginning to think women don't know what they want in a man."

Devil (Elizabeth Hurley): "Amen to that."

- Bedazzled

***

puerileuwaite said...

Leelee, I was worried. You didn't comment. You didn't tell me where you were going, or when you'd be back. I'm just glad you're alive, but look, I've got a new gray hair because of this!

I want to thank you for not placing question marks after "What" and "man". I don't deserve you. You are too good.

puerileuwaite said...

Oops. I knew I had it wrong, so I just Googled it to make sure. His name is actually Brendan Fraser.

leelee said...

Awwww PW....you are too kind. I haven't gone anywhere...just lurking in the background..you know what they say..REAL LIFE interferes with my blogging!

and the only puncuation fitting for this your post was !!!!!

leelee said...

oh and I have been having an awful habit lately of typo's please forgive..

puerileuwaite said...

Hard to believe, I know. But I've been having to lurk more as well. And it may get worse if they start forcing me to REALLY work.

Paula said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Paula said...

Oops. About the other comment:).

Umm, no.
Not so much.

puerileuwaite said...

Okay, PJ, so far that's one nay vote for "Hemmingway Guy". I honestly knew he wouldn't be your type ;-)

jmeped said...

Good morning P- I asked my magic 8 ball if we would meet and it read, it is most certain. So, where's my pizza?

puerileuwaite said...

Jmeped, that is why I love early morning best of all. So full of hope. A time when we are only marginally awake; one foot still in dream land, the other barely touching reality. I try to maintain that state throughout my day, alas to no avail.

My magic 8-ball said "ask me again later". WTF? Piece of crap! Like it's WAY TOO BUSY to give me an answer now! What's it busy doin'? Curing cancer for Chrissakes! This agitates me.

jmeped said...

It sounds to me someone hasn't had their coffee. I asked mine twice and it had the same answer twice. Yours must be broken. I love how you started so optimistic and then it fell to crap at the 8 ball. =) If your 8 ball could cure cancer that would be magic!

puerileuwaite said...

Well if it doesn't get its act together real quick like, then its next task will be to reassemble itself. If it can't tell me MY future, then it won't have one.

jmeped said...

I asked my 8 ball if your 8 ball was fucking with you and it said, "As I see it, yes." I don't know if that helps, and your poor puppy everytime I see him makes me want to give him a treat and rub his belly.

puerileuwaite said...

Why my dog? I too like to have treats and have my belly rubbed. Not necessarily in THAT order, however.