I have been officially relegated to "guest room" status. My childhood bedroom is no more after being replaced by office equipment and stuff my mom doesn't want to store anywhere else. This meant boxing my stuff in Tupperware bins and hauling them around in the trunk of my car.
There was a column in the Deseret News a few years back highlighting "The Top 10 Reasons Utah Men Aren't Getting Married." (I highly recommend reading the full column here.) Number seven goes like this:
You're trying to meet the expectations of that "150-things-I-demand-in-a-husband" list that all girls prepare in Young Women. If you don't look like Brad Pitt, have a wallet like Steve Young or act like Capt. Moroni, good luck.
I found several of these lists as I cleaned out what-used-to-be-mine-but-isn't-because-my-parents-have-no-legal-obligation-to-provide-me-shelter-anymore closet. I scanned them gleefully looking for signs of growth and maturity throughout the years and a hoping for a good laugh.
I was sorely disappointed. Where were the outrageous expectations? The ridiculous requests? The one-way tickets to only-in-your-wildest-dreams land? My 14-year-old self was apparently very practical because "has a stable job" and "good with kids" topped the list. Bleh.
I'm tempted to sneak into my friend's rooms and steal their lists with items like "is exactly 6 feet 1.233 inches tall" and "has green eyes, tan skin and Dutch heritage so he'll bring me tulips every day" can be claimed as my own. I swear I knew a girl who was determined to marry a doctor who plays guitar and piano, speaks Spanish and can do a running front handspring ending in an inverted double-tuck.
With eight years of dating experience behind me, my wiser, more jaded self wants to reach back into that closet, pull out the first Lisa Frank glitter pen I can find and add the following to my list:
- He should know the difference between NPR and the NRA.
- I shouldn't have to define more than one word I use per conversation for him to keep up.
- He must, and this is an absolute must, be able to drive stick-shift and parallel park.
So much for the trapese-flying, tri-lingual accountant!
What are your additions to the list?