A Little Person

Michelle Nguyen
Harvard College '13
National Junior College, Singapore '08
Email : michelle.nguyen@facebook.com
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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

My Petite Life ♥

Mr. Perfect

I'm somewhat of a serial dater - I tend to date many people at the same time, but nothing seems able to last longer than a few weeks. Some fizzle out into benign friendships. Others, I just forget to return their calls and answer their texts.

If you were to position yourself at the receiving end of my conversations about the boys, you would soon realize that they seem pretty much clones of one another. There is a definite prototype: a tall, pretty narcissist with great hair, an inclination to treating girls like they're disposable, and an above-average dose of "confidence." The thing about dating these guys is that they simultaneously spoil you rotten about what to expect from guys, physically at least, and make you so cynical about human nature and relationships in general. This subsequently leads to even more dysfunctional pseudo-relationships.

Anyway, these days, as "age" is catching up to me, I start to think about the "perfect guy," the one who would make me want to settle down and not act like an immature brat any more. I mostly believe that such a person doesn't exist, hence monogamy and the idea that there's "one" person for everybody are patently doomed to fail. I've come up with a few criteria for my ideal man.


- You're tall. By which I mean at least 5'11, 180cm tall. I suppose girls like tall guys in general, but growing up with a tall-ish dad who is always head and shoulder above his peers makes you have rather unrealistic expectations regarding height (Turns out, they're REALLY short. He's okay tall at 174cm or 5'9). Also, almost all of my close guy friends (with the exception of 1) are at least that tall. I'm thinking you being shorter than all of them does not look good on me or bode well for your confidence.

- You have a pretty face. Like, if I can imagine you as a pretty girl, you're golden, think Leonardo di Caprio circa Titanic or Jonathan Rhys Meyer when he's not being a giant douchebag. Actually, I think Leo is a God no matter what time frame it is.

- You have an okay body. Obviously, it'd be best if you have an AMAZING body but no one is perfect and I'm willing to compromise. I've gone over the body vs. face debate many times in my head, and I think the scale is tipped in the face's favor. I mean, it's not like I could have a conversation with your abs at dinner. I'd readily have a fun fling thing with a tall, ripped, but funny-faced boy (less American football player, more soccer player/swimmer), but for that one perfect boy, I'm looking for the perfect, pimple-free, God (or Goddess?)-like face, provided that he is not noticeably fat and makes me feel like I'm a bunny going out with a whale.

- Nice hair. I've recently realized that I'm obsessed with a nice head of hair on boys. I mean like long-ish, wavy, Patrick Dempsey-quality hair that flutters with the lightest of breezes. A buzzcut is fine for a fling (I'm not a fussy flinger), but I do love running my hand through your hair and not feeling like I'm being stung by an army of ants, or - this would never happen, please God - like I'm petting a baby's bottom.

- Some stuff are implied: nice smile (which means your teeth aren't too messed up - I have learned a couple of years ago that this is a distraction I am not able to get over), nice eyes, basically, nice things that come with a pretty face.


- You have to be intelligent, at least enough so I could respect you. I don't talk about "intelligent" topics very often - that's what classes and essays are for - but I can be incredibly snobby about my intellect. You need to at least match mine. You don't have to go to Harvard/Yale/one of those schools but you know how some boys just cringe if the girl standing next to them does. The insecurity is a turnoff. Finally, I know I talk about boobs and celebrities more than anything, but if you dare insult my intelligence I might gouge your eyes out. (Seriously bro, are you kidding yourself?)

- You're funny. Everybody loves a funny guy. But sometimes guys think that they're funny when they're really not, and that is like the grossest thing ever. Especially because I think I'm pretty funny, and when you fake funniness and/or try to upstage me with your lame ass comments and quasi-jokes, I want to punch you in the face.

 Also, I'm a sucker for sarcasm and dry humor, think Chandler Bing/Matthew Perry. Drools.

- You're okay with me having a bunch of guy friends that I'm close to, and go out with periodically without you. (Seriously I have problems with my mother, and I'm just more of a boy essentially so it's easier for me to hang out with them. It's primarily not a vanity thing.) Jealousy can be cute but if there's a real chance that you might actually kill me and my friends, it is not okay. So I guess you need to be secure and chill.

- You're okay with my vast array of issues and screw-ups, my issues with intimacy (dysfunctional parents and 7 years and counting of living by yourself in different parts of the world do that to a person), and the fact that they will drive us both insane for a little while. You're patient when I work out my issues on my own schedule.

- You're okay with the fact that I can't cook, don't like cleaning, have a million of opinions on everything and am never going to be the quiet girl sitting in the corner. You're not going to go all patriarchal/traditional "family values" on my ass because there's a good chance I will bite your head off.

I guess the last three points are a long-winded way of saying that you should accept me for who I am, and be patient with me while I work on my shortcomings, which I am well aware of. I mean, the problem is that even though I know I'm a deeply flawed human being, I'm also sufficiently arrogant that if you dare criticize me, I might go psycho bitch on you and we'll have bigger problems than my inability to cook.

The final point is that you must be aware of the fact that I might have these semi-psychotic outbursts which would make you hate me, hopefully momentarily. I suppose that is what happens when I fluctuate between (over)confidence and insecurity, self-love and self-doubt - I go crazy once in a while.

Some things are nice to have but not absolutely crucial:

- I like it when you take care of me, or attempt to. I'm incredibly stubborn and I've always been self-sufficient, but it is nice to feel like the barely-5' tiny person that I actually am once in a while, especially when I'm falling all over myself drunk. I will probably refuse your help anyway, but I don't hate that you offer.

- I like it when you put me in my place sometimes and tell me that I'm being an unreasonable brat. I will fight back and say that I hate you, which I probably do for those 10 seconds. As much as I am all about the "female power," I like a strong guy who's not a pushover.

- I like it when you show emotions. Mind you, Sex and the City's Steve, who cries every five fucking seconds, is an absolute no-no. My dad is 60 and I've seen his tears twice, when his dad died and when I left for Singapore. But when tall, strong, arrogant, pretty boys show emotions, it's kind of hot and moving.

I think the conclusion is that I'll find myself alone with dogs, a closetful of shoes and very expensive bags.

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Michelle: Auf Wiedersehen!

7/31/2012 06:24:00 AM

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