The Dolls discuss the perils of online dating, needy beaus and husbands and frustration over constant care of “him” and his needs. Two Dolls relate recent relationship arguments. Pfft. Exhaustive research provides the solution. I’m marrying Batman. The caped crusader is, indeed, my soul mate. He just may be the perfect man. Need proof?
When I want him to pick up pizza on the way home, I hit the bat signal telling my love I am in need. Due to our mind mingling, he instinctively knows whether to bring pizza or tacos. Or Pinot Noir.
He has the original man cave. This works for both of us. When he’s just too needy I can send him downstairs to play with gadgets and work on his cars.
Speaking of cars, the guy can deliver me to dinner in the coolest of rides. Be it the Batmobile, if I’m craving a wild night, or a sleek limo–he’s got wheels covered.
He’s a philanthropist so I can attend all the balls and fundraisers I want. He loves my charity work and is always at the ready with a checkbook. Wearing a tux. And he’s impossibly wealthy–can you imagine my wardrobe? It rivals my Pinterest closet.
He’s the strong silent type. That quiet, but powerful, voice means business whether in the bedroom or when he’s whispering in my ear over dinner with friends. He’s telling me he can’t wait to get home.
Piss me off? Be careful. My husband might whack you with a batarang or hang you from a building with a grappling hook until you apologize. I can also swim wherever I like ‘cuz he carries Bat Shark Repellent.
He’s been with lots of ladies. One assumes he’s quite good at mad skills. One would be right. Given his inner sense of good versus evil, right and wrong, he is faithful to a fault. Lucky me.
His mom is not with us. Tragic, yes, but with no mother-in-law, I can do whatever I want at holidays.
Amongst his fight skills: Boxing, jujitsu, taekwondo, judo, ninjutsu, kickboxing and karate. Don’t I feel safe wherever I go? And he can fence. That one’s for my entertainment when I’m feeling renaissance-y.
He’s also a marksman, can navigate traffic, fly a plane, scuba dive and has situational awareness. Thank God I’ll never have to answer “Is something wrong?” ever again. A man who is situationally aware–thank you Sweet Baby Jesus.
He hasn’t had great luck with the ladies. Poor boy, he falls for the bad ones. He needs a chick who understands his depth, his mystery and feels no need to poke around in that musty batcave. Except to bring him a cocktail when it’s time for other things–like wine and Netflix, a rainy afternoon with The Notebook or Mexican food.
Best of all there’s Wayne Manor. I’m thinking a facelift of the French Country variety. Lighten it up a little. Glazed off-white cabinetry, a deep farm sink flanked by toile balloon shades and brick. Not that I’m expected to cook in that kitchen with a fireplace but I may watch Alfred do it. He makes a mean taco.