To that end, I think I know what, at this point in time, my idea of “the perfect woman” is. Nothing too shallow, I hope, but probably very universal.

Naturally, physical attractiveness is important. No matter how much someone says they do not care about looks, the fact of the matter is 90% of our impressions about people are based on appearance. This is genetic, of course. We have certain qualities that we find to be ideal in a mate and we think should compliment our own genes and help create better progeny. (It’s evolution, kids. Looking for transitionary forms? Your own children are transitionary forms. Deal with it.) Barring physical appearance, since we really don’t have that much control over it in the first place, what else is important?

Intelligence. There are many people who think that just learning something new is intelligence. Hate to be a hater (no I don’t) but that is not intelligence. That is knowledge. Intelligence is the ability to take the knowledge you have, assimilate it, and apply it to tasks at hand, find the relevant links between the different types of knowledge you have gained, and use in to further the knowledge of everyone else. Spouting facts is knowledge. Using those facts to find something new is intelligence.

Surprisingly enough, I honestly think that is it. Except for her ability to deal with my inane rhetoric, but that is a skill that few, if any, will ever acquire.

We all know that no matter where they go, girls travel in packs. Even once they get to their destination, they still maintain that pack mentality, be it going to the restroom or purchasing a drink at the bar. What I noticed about all of the packs I saw, though, is that they invariably contain one fatty.

I am not trying to take a dig at fatties here. I used to be around 230 pounds, or over 16 stone for those of you that care (my car gets 40 rods to the hogshead and I’m happy!! – Abraham Simpson), and have since dropped to around 195 and have the desire to lose more. I don’t care about whatever your reason for being whatever term you choose to use to describe the fact that you are overweight, but we Americans are the fattest fuckers on the whole damn world.

Anyway, back to the fatties. Taking a page from most fantasy MMORPGs from the past few years, it appears that these girls are there as a Tank. For anyone who has never played these types of games, the basic idea of the Tank is to go up to the giant boss, distract him from attacking anyone else in the party and absorb all of the damage so every one else can beat the shit out of the boss. I feel that is exactly why these girls are there.

Now, some may say that they are really hanging out with this girl to make themselves look better, and those are generally shallow girls with low self esteem, but it is my honest opinion that they exist solely to distract the guys who come and try to hit on the rest of the girls. That stand out in front, bravely taking the jeers and ridicule of whatever drunken frat trash staggers up to their friends, keeping him distracted while the rest of her friends hurl insults at his hair, clothing, whatever in attempt to beat him down and thereby win the fight.

Of course, I could be wrong, I am old after all and don’t understand the mentality of those a decade younger than me, but in my deranged eyes, this all makes perfect sense.

In no certain order, since order really does not matter and this is all purely hypothetical, I am going to create a numbered list of the criteria. Because I can.

1. Must be, at least, a libertarian. I am no fan of the government, and there is no way I could ever find myself with a liberal, conservative, statist, et al. I say libertarian with a little l, because the party itself has been hijacked by conservatives and has lost its principles.
2. Must be cute. Not hot, just cute. Dating hotties leads to nothing but trouble, it is a fact.
3. Must be shorter than me. I am not very tall, around 5’10″, but I don’t want a woman taller than me. Doesn’t have to be a lot shorter, just a little bit.
4. Must not have a problem with my smoking. i don’t care if she smokes, but i do. I’ll never do it in the house, and I may give it up again some day, but for now, I smoke.
5. Must not want to live together. I am done with that. I want to have my space and my time. We can have our time together, but I want time to me.
6. Not living together means not having kids together. I have two. She can have some as well. I don’t need any more.
7. Must live within 45 miles of me. This is pretty self explanatory.
8. Must be a geek. Everything coming up will pretty much relate back to this qualifier.
9. Must get my random esoteric attempts at humor through references to television shows, books, comics, graphic novels, video games, movies, history, whatever I can string together. Now, I am not saying I am anywhere near as bad as, oh, say, Dennis Miller. Than man can find a way to relate Rat Basketball at COSI to Hannibal crossing the Alps. I am not that bad. Well, maybe close, but not THAT bad.
10. Must be a gamer. By a gamer, I don’t mean, “Oh, did you play that new Cooking MaMa on the Wii?” I mean a gamer. PS3 or 360, I don’t care which, but we can get together and play some Halo or COD over the network and kick some serious ass. It would definitely be a lot of fun.
11. This isn’t necessarily a “must” but a “would be nice.” EVE player. I love that MMORPG. It is by far the best one out there for its sandbox style, single server, and actual in game consequences. I am not saying we would have to be in the same corporation or alliance. Hell, if she were in a Merc corp and they war decced us, then I would expect her to try her best to make my pod go plop, but just having someone who can enjoy that game as much as I do would be awesome.

Ok, so, 11 little things. Not really too much, right? I am sure that my perfect woman must be out there somewhere. Hell, I don’t even have an age requirement.

Spent the evening at the place which is no longer my house to watch the boys while she was at work. Since buying this house in November, I have been unable to find my brown belt, so I decided to take another search in a box full of belts in the bedroom closet. While searching, I just happened to notice that a knob was loose on the night stand. I really didn’t want Kieran to take it off and lose it, so I opened the drawer to fix it, and low and behold what do I see? A form of contraceptive that was never used by the two of us. It has been about four weeks since I moved in with my mother, and up until earlier today there might have been some possible hope of getting back together. I had decided earlier that it was over, but I believe that this is the final nail in the coffin. Oh, and the leather ball stretcher on the dresser on what was my side of the bed.

Life is good.

Of course, this makes me wonder if something I had been told earlier were actually true. I had assumed for some time that it was, but had never said anything about it.

jeebus.