In a word, everything.
So good luck with that, fellas. I feel bad for you. Because you know what? Each woman wants something different. On a different day sometimes. I have a friend that read Fifty Shades of Grey and told me how happy she’d be if only she could find a man like Christian Grey.
Er, excuse me, the human ice-block who bosses his submissive girlfriend around and tells her what to do and wear and eat and then spanks her? Not cute little spankity-spanks, but, as I understand it, god-DANG-it-that-really-hurt spanks. Really? Really? I didn’t read the book, so I’ll admit I may be missing the charming underbelly of this guy, but for me…no way. I bristle at being bossed around. Just ask anyone who’s ever bossed me around. Choosing my own outfits is one of my favorite activities, and if you hit me, I will not be turned on. I will probably cry. And then press charges.
At any rate, I hope my friend finds her scary prince. But the idea that women want a man like Christian Grey–or a vampire or werewolf for that matter–has got to be somewhat baffling to men. Wish I could help you out with that one.
I have a man. And here’s what I want from him: I want him to know exactly when to talk to me and when to leave me alone. I want him to telepathically read my mind and know when I’m having a bad day and come home early with a present for me. I want him to laugh at every joke I make, even the stupid ones. I want him to not only tell me I’m the most beautiful, most intelligent and most talented person in the world, (even though a multitude of reality shows and beauty pageants and Pulitzer Prizes have proven this to be patently untrue) I want him to actually believe it. In other words, I want him to have a pathological psychological break with reality. But only in this one area, you understand. The rest of the time he needs to display perfect mental health.
I want him to learn to dance with me. And like it. I want him to work his ass off at work, then come home and sit very still, establish unwavering, full-on eye-to-eye contact and listen to me ramble about my day. (and laugh a lot, remember, at my awesome jokes.) I want him to never look at his BlackBerry while in my presence. I wouldn’t mind if, after I drifted off to sleep every night, he would hop out of bed and tidy the living room and kitchen. I want him to swoop in and save me and I want him to let me do everything on my own. I want him to adore me, but give me tons of space. I want everything, and I want nothing. God love him.
At least I don’t expect him to pick out my outfits.