A few days ago, I was listening to a client list all of the things that she required out of a man. The outline was downright specific, with such startling detail as height requirements and type of hair-do. I gently commented that her obsessive stipulations might have something to do with why she was still single, but she assured me that is was merely because Mr. Right had not, in fact, walked through her door. A door that, I suspect, is outfitted with a bear trap to ensnare the man should he be brave enough to ask her out in the first place.
"So what do happens when this 6'3, dark haired Adonis gets a stoop, starts balding and dares fart in front of you?" I asked. Because these things happen, people. The adorable man that you cannot live without and enjoy seeing first thing in the morning will, at some point, make you want to stab your eyes out with a blunt object. It's called love.
Without batting an eye and in complete seriousness she said, "Well, that's why you have a solid pre-nup and a divorce lawyer you trust on hand. If he doesn't keep up with what I need, I'll dump his ass and get a new one."
And we're not letting the gays marry...why? Remind me. The heteros seem to have it all figured out.
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