After years of playing the game of love, I have honed my approach to the opposite sex down to a science. I think when a girl meets a guy, he should have nice hair. The mussed look may be sexy these days, but the "I just got outta bed at three PM, 'cause I'm recovering from last night's hell-ripper," is not an attractive quality. A nice smile is a must with me. It shows the man has some confidence, and is probably friendly. It also lets me know off the bat, if he brushes his teeth, or gargles with Budweiser. I do like my man to be taller than me. Traditionally, it is more aesthetically pleasing. Besides, if he is an inch or more shorter than I am, and we have any future together, I find myself then obligated to throw out all my high heels.
The man should also have his own car. This is attractive, because it proves he is responsible and independent. On the other hand, if I find out in the course of conversation, that the beautiful red Porsche he is driving is a present from one of his "other girls", I tend to think he is probably too financially driven for my tastes. Independence, as I have mentioned is quite an attractive quality in a man. I would not be inclined to go out with a man I meet who whispers to me, "Hey, do ya got a girlfriend for my boy, Fred here? He said he would drive us as long as I could hook him up with a date tonight."
As the evening wears on, I turn the conversation to his trade skills; a very important aspect in any relationship. For instance, does this guy know how to change a flywheel and clutch plate on a '74 Toyota Celica? Knowledge of vehicle maintenance is a must with me. If his only idea of car know-how is hot wiring or installing (and therefore UN-installing) car sound equipment, I tend to say something like "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else.", and promptly leave by way of the nearest escape route.
If during the conversation, we would move towards our past experiences, I get out my mental steno pad and take notes. If I realize that this guy starts the majority of his recollections with "I remember one time I was plastered..." I feel that he is probably not a good candidate for a long-term relationship. In reference to being plastered on a daily basis, if he then says, "That reminds me, I gotta hit the 7-11 before midnight for a beer run.." I am quite certain that this guy is bound to live with his mother (another definite no-no in my book), or wants to marry his mother. This Oedipus complex is not my bag either. So I will more often then not, mark this guy, with my mind's red pen, as a disaster area, to be avoided at all costs.
Finally, if by chance, we make it through the evening without a hitch, and this is almost an impossibility as far as I am aware at this time, I will give him my phone number and tell him to call. This is also a tradition going back to at least the days of The Donna Reed Show. Unlike Shelly Fabres, however, I will not wait for some guy to call me. No, indeed. I make my own rules. I will get his number as well. If at this point, be says he can only give me his pager number, I then can assume one of two things. He has a significant, though probably somewhat pitiful other at his place of residence, or the only phone he has access to requires a 50 cent deposit to make a call. If any one or all of these undesirable red lights comes on in my head, I politely say, in my nicest of voices, saved exclusively for moments like this, "Well, at least I know you can speak English." And we then plan our next rendezvous.
