You’ve all noticed that the sun has come out to play, right*? Well sod it, so have I. Last Friday, I went on a charity double date – Wait, what? Next post, I promise – and since then, I have been thinking… “Yeah, I could do this. Moreover, I would enjoy doing this… Screw it, I’m doing this!” I was struck by something blogger Bangs and a Bun said on Twitter recently, after she got a call from Idris Elba. “Sometimes,” she said, “you have to Field of Dreams things into existence.” So, um yeah. Consider this a formal notice: YorubaGirl is now accepting applications. If you build it, he will come.
Co-blogger Alex L has just started an excellent project, called I’m Not Looking. I’m recommending that you read the blog of her experiences, not just because I know her, and not just because the cackle-to-paragraph ratio is pleasingly high, but also because her enterprise seems to be the very antithesis of what I’m doing. You see, Alex is going for a year of categorically “Not Looking”. This is based on that old chestnut that friends and family offer when you tell them, “No, actually. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” This is the point at which they do the sympathetic head-tilt and say, unconvincingly, “It’ll happen when you’re not looking, you’ll see.” Most of these people are clearly not Nigerian, who will say to your face: “What are you waiting for? If you want it, you better go out and get it.” I respect Alex’s dedication, and will be checking in with her to see how she gets along. You should too.
So, back in the Land of the Looking, let me lay down (heh) what I’m looking for:
- Good teeth, good hair, clean nails; hey, if I’m pulling my weight and bringing the good stuff to the party, he should too.
- An appreciation of good comedy and a properly wicked sense of humour. Let me elaborate: Frasier, Eastbound and Down, Richard Pryor, Dave Chapelle… I have a full list, and I’m happy to share it.
- The ability to make a good cuppa. I get stabby when it’s done wrong.
- A feminist – or at least, non-misogynist – outlook.
And here’s what I am not looking for:
- LOLspeakers/TxtSpeakers/unable-to-spell-or-punctuate fools.
- A telly addict. I got this – find your own thing!
- An idiot. It seems obvious… But really. NO. IDIOTS.
As you can see, I am a woman of simple-ish tastes. If you’ve got some great guy tucked away somewhere, then… wait. What’s wrong with him? Anyway, below is a handy little cut-out-and-keep guide for what I’m looking for. Forgive me, poetry gods, for I butchered a great. It’s Emma Lazarus’ most famous sonnet, The New Colossus, paraphrased shoddily:
Give me your handsome, your evolved,
Your towering hunks yearning to converse wittily,
The magnificent prizes of your teeming shore.
Send these, the intelligent, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp(wink wink) beside the golden door!”
And they say poetry is dead.
*For non-British dwellers The British Sun™ is notoriously kooky on these shores and very, very whimsical. See you in the park in shorts and flip flops; I’ll bring the frisbee!