One can never predict where chick conversations will go. To the surprise of most men; rarely do conversations travel to most men. If you’ve got one at home, seems another one would just entail more socks to pick up off the floor, am I right? But, every once in a blue moon the conversation does go there. And when it does–my, my, my. Rarely do my thoughts drift to men other than The Norwegian but this particular conversation involves what is and is not attractive in the celebrity opposite gender. And do the girls have opinions–yikes.
Before we hit on celebrities, there are requirements unanimous to the dolls: cleanliness, teeth (unless a boy is of the hockey variety), general decency, law abiding and employed; not for the reason you think. He needs a job to make sure he leaves the house now and again and isn’t too stifling. After that, it becomes a bit of a circus as to what the girls search for when they set their sights on a mate, whether it be long term or the for-a-night variety.
One doll sporting a serious, intelligent, suit-wearing husband for a million years, says a scruffy-faced younger bad boy would catch her eye if she were of the suddenly single set. One of my best dolls suggests my happiness lies in a younger, buff toy who would neither cling nor have expectations. Insanity runs in her family–it must if she believes there is a young, buff toy searching for an old, mouthy broad with a wine habit, a sarcastic streak, and formidable stretch marks. The Norwegian tolerated them as I convinced him they were his fault, me birthing his ten-pound children and all.
Seems the girls agree there are men one “tries on” and men labeled marriage material. How very sexist. Very often the truth produces a bit of a sting. My personal example–Kid Rock. Kid has always held a mysterious vibe over me. Most of my girlfriends are, to put it mildly, grossed out by this. He is, by all accounts, scruffy, a bit unkempt (a bit?) and shall we say, rough? On the other hand, his voice sends shock waves through the system. The way he holds a microphone causes the mind to drift in wonderment at how he may hold other things. His scruff and bad boy behavior points to mad skills finesse. There, it is confessed. The Norwegian knew of my Kid Rock fascination. Kid was my pass.
Goldie Hawn was his. From the day I met the man, he had a thing for the bubbly, vivacious, happy blond. So he married a serious, dark haired, ass-growing harpie the farthest thing from a free spirit he could find. Go figure. The Norwegian had a pass for Goldie. The deal was this: If Goldie or Kid should knock on the door and ask specifically for us we could go. We could not search them out but if they knocked on the door, we had a pass. I granted him the pass. He just didn’t answer when I said I had a pass for Kid.
Now that I am widowed and by definition single, I suppose I could search out Kid but really what would be the purpose. He is younger, muscled, has a six pack and an amazeballs back. Truly, look it up. He has a beautiful back, despite the tattoo. He is well-traveled and anthems to thousands of adoring fans. And I am, well, a fat-assed widow mom of three with stretch marks and an unhealthy pearl and two-tone pump obsession. Just what every hot rocker is searching for, non?
Other guys are mentioned after my shocking confession leaves my girls scratching their heads. My girl chickens also express disgust at my dubious choice. Who cares? Still, if he knocked on the door now that I am sans husband I would not have to go, I could simply let him in.
Of course, my dolls find George Clooney, the serial monogamer, on the handsome side. I’m just kind of over his modus operandi. Would I go? One would imagine with all that experience he might be quite good at what he does. So probably. Ryan Gosling wouldn’t even have to get out of the car and make his way to the front door.
Younger girls seem to favor those Hemsworth brothers and who could blame them with all that Avenger Magic. Any man who can change the world wielding a hammer, blond locks blowing in the wind, deserves whatever accolades come his way. And there’s two of them. Good job parental units. Good job. The younger set also finds Channing Tatum and Bradley Cooper on their delish lists. Check, check on both counts. Tatum becomes even more adorable as you watch him discuss his wife and their impending bambino. Men miss that the most attractive thing about them is how they are in a relationship. Love your wife and kids–other chicks drool over your hotness.
We can’t go Avenger Style and leave out Tony Stark. Mmm Mmm Good. Robert Downey Jr. hits all the marks: cute, cool, self effacing, rehabbed bad boy and intellectually funny. Johnny Depp is another one with whom most girls would like to have a deep discussion and then discover his other talents. His scruff is delish but you know his mind is as well. He is another that oozes, “By the way, I am amazing in bed and will recite poetry afterward.”
For those country girls, there’s Luke Bryan and of course Blake Shelton. Blake is that flirty boy no one can get enough of. Let’s hope he is as true to Miranda as we hope. And that they have a little one soon ‘cuz they’re both just so adorbs. Rocker girls prefer Adam, as in Levine. My personal yuck for tattoos could be foregone for this little pork chop but I get the feeling he is a smaller person. Being the physically larger person in the relationship is distasteful given that I already have a neurosis concerning my ass. The last thing I need is a guy of the miniature variety.
I also can’t do short. If I feel like I’m bigger, neurosis takes over. I am not just a little taller. Pretty soon I am a towering amazon woman scooping up a little kitten of a man. So for me, he’s gotta be bigger than me. Hard call given the size of my ass.
Just goes to show, there is so much variety out there and so much from which to choose. Good thing ‘cuz every chick seems to favor a different kind of ice cream. Not finding anybody preferring vanilla in my hood.