Hello, I am Marinette Verisoul and I have a strong belief that there is nothing like a Dream MAN. I am almost 40 and unmarried, career crazy and bed hopping in and out of my bed only – I can see you were expecting something else, sorry to disappoint. I hop in and out of my bed from 5.45am every morning and back in bed by 10.00pm on a weekday and weekends 5.00am. In addition to that discipline I am fashion crazy and drop dead gorgeous with a body to kill for and a bank account that can sustain me – well for now if I minus the Hermes bags and purses – scrap that, my bags are an entirety of my persona so yes I always need a man whose bank account won’t feel the pinch of the Hermes, for now, I thrive just fine on my own turf.
I have a dildo that is covered in dust and makeup because well let’s just say until I turned 28 my body started rejecting anything that could satisfy me without voicing its own satisfaction. Needless to say, like most or all dildo’s my dildo can’t speak and bored me to death… I may be heading to China to get me one of those dolls that can look and feel like a man and maybe the 50.1 robot series would have been developed tried tested and advanced enough to give me a voice over, nothing too audacious, something more along the lines of ‘Yeah baby you’re a freak’. Something that can speak to me as much as shag me yet not bear the brunt of my expensive lifestyle because let me break it down to you, as smart and intelligent as I am I have met only one man who can stand my shopping habit, let’s not rush, you will hear about him in a tinny whinny while… grab some wine and a blanket let me deconstruct this quest for a perfect man journey.
I ponder what my life will be like If I don’t find a man of my taste and choice… plus I hate women – not that I hate them I mean I hate them in that sense because all what they have, I do too so why should I have double cheese bugger when I can just have a chicken royale? I have my eyes on men no apologies, and because there is a picture perfect lover out there and all I want is him, I am out to re-evaluate the past and the present and the future to get my Mr Perfect lover… any woman who is keeping him away from me will get so much dandruff he will run away into my arms (have no iota of bad in my blood so dandruff is the worst thing I can wish anyone) – while I wait and scuffle with the thoughts of my personal life’s past, I’m hoping beyond hope that soon, I will meet my Mr perfect. Sometimes I worry about the fact that I may have missed him in the same quest to find him – what was I thinking? I won’t forgive myself! to make sure I am on track with my quest meet all the conquests in my life, they all had the things I want in my MR Perfect – but all were so incomplete I almost had to dissect each piece and create my Dream Man – fortunately for them I am not a vampire! I hate blood.
I’ll introduce them in alphabetical order just because their names don’t really matter – I am sure a man with no name is nothing compared to a man with all the characteristics I am searching for, so let’s alphabetize these bunch. Meet my Mr A – I met him in my twenties early years at University still a virgin with full grown armpit hairs, young perky and carefree but ignorant and foolish with no life lessons under my judo belt. He barely knew what to do with me in bed. He basically flustered all around me and heaved and puffed like the big bad wolf. Because I didn’t know any better I never questioned anything he did. I followed him about town like a puppet and its master puppeteer and will blush at the bare mention of his name or his hands over mine – ridiculously he was dating three other girls in the hostel I lived in and because of my introverted persona no one felt like it was important to let me know I was being played – so when I somehow heartbreakingly found him out I took a long vacation far far away!
While vacationing with a group of friends in the Islands I met Mr B and boy I had to catch the breath out of my lungs before he knocked it out of me in one thrust. He was smart intelligent with very very bad hygiene and always liked kissing me in the morning high on bad breath and two minutes later running out the door for errands in same boxer shorts as last night. That in itself put me off, but like every other lady who knows the big boy’s story, something about that always makes you weak in the knees, so I kept the fling sidelined for a few more years after I returned to base to complete my masters. That’s one big boy that will take a brain eraser to wipe off my memory – boy oh boy!
All along we played at nothing serious but hoping in the back of my head that it will somehow turn to something worth serious-ing over – unfortunately, the sex was amazing, the guy’s focus was great but his hygiene always crept the crap outta me – which was always short-lived when I was horny – he pretty much knocked the sense off me for a good number of years that I lost track of time and the fact that I actually wanted something more serious than this thing – between his legs! Needless to say, we all grew up too fast he moved away from University around the same time I did and our last words were
‘catch you on Facebook’.
Lassies which man in his right frame of mind will say that to a woman he has shared such high intense emotional moments for over three years – that goes to show you how unserious some men with good sex qualifications can be – so I lost that one too, lost his number and a little while later lost his Facebook account when I saw his wedding pictures.
Then in my early thirties I landed on Mr C, Lord almighty knows that that orange Is the new black jumpsuit and jail was where I was headed to. He never worked a day in his life, spent all his time watching the two giant size computer screens in his living room – waiting for the day his rich father will drop dead and pass over his wealth to him. He was that lazy and corky and chauvinistic at same time. What attached me to him was well… Familiarity. That thing where you hang out with someone so much so that you become use to having them around. His uncircumcised manhood made sense in action not in sight but oh boy he knew the dictionary on cajoling a woman 401, the best gifts and bags came from him, the best cruises and holidays on spontaneous trips all came from him, but there was the downside of dry financial times where I had to be the leverage – that I didn’t like one bit.
He could cajole even a mad woman. Take him to a room full of your friends and he will charm the rain from their pants and lightning and thunder will begin to pour before you know it, your friends are telling you how amazing he is when really and truly all they are trying to say is how horny he has made them… The trick with him was he never lingered. He charmed and left them flustered as to whether he even noticed them the next minute because all his attention turns to me like his life flowed through my eyes… He was that good.
I couldn’t fault his charming skills but found all the reasons to fault him as a breadwinner … from morning till night he traded stocks for his dad, he was educated and prepared to take over family shares and stocks business across the country but that didn’t mean he couldn’t land himself a job, he had interviewed with a couple of city investment banks and got two offers – his response was ‘OMG dad can pay me a much better salary’ – so that meant I picked up the bills every time, unplanned, unprepared until dad’s generosity shined on us – and that wasn’t every month, plus his designer lifestyle made the money always insufficient and the burst outs were becoming more and more frequent – even worse when his drug habit hit the headline of my life, walking into him one morning in his bathroom sniffing white powder. He was either going to land me in trouble of get me to kill him from frustration – So I moved on when I met Mr D.
Don’t judge me when you hear my story about Mr D. He is a handful, a very disciplined and principled human. He wants all his ducks in a row and plans everything even a date he had already planned. Who plans that much. I lost the will to plan one more thing. Let’s plan how we will shop this weekend, let’s plan our expenses, let’s plan our sex life as premarital sex is not the ideal, let’s save most of ourselves for marriage meaning half way through heated foreplay he could stand up with a very erected penis and walk straight into the shower to have a cold bath leaving me breathing heavily like I have become hurricane horny Mary.
Yes, he has such powers and I hate him for that. He works 24/7 but still plans his week ahead on a Monday. I work too and feel like I waste my energy worrying about what next big plan he will throw at me and the madness that my life will become when we start talking marriage plans… I will be the one to put that on hold just in case I become disoriented. I spend most of my days in his house but he is planning on how best I should plan to move in so we are planning that when he plans I will make plans to plan my move. Can you all at any point count how many times I have used the words ‘plan’ and that isn’t even the tip of the iceberg!
I can’t stop hearing the words planning’s and plan from Mr D. It makes me delirious to the point that planning on leaving him was a signed sealed and delivered deal in my head. I can’t even believe I have to start the journey of meeting another man and learning a whole new stack of flaws, God! just send me Mr Perfect, at 40 the least I can do is have a man I love, loving every strand on his bald head – meaning any man younger than me is already stricken off my list.
The story of my life continues with the scars of all the above, yet all the qualities I want in a man I have not been able to compile in one man, the qualities are distributed in a not so linear pattern that I get to meet a man who meets the specifications I was hoping will belong to a man whose face and lips I absolutely love but whose character is nothing to say I do to. It looks like it’s never happening so I decided to cut away from the superficialities of life – no man I hate, no dildos that won’t speak, no me myself and me time until I can meet the man I really and truly want… That’s if and when I do.
Mr D and I clandestinely meet up a couple of times for talks and lunches as we had made that a big part of our routine, while he planned to give me space to think my decision of leaving him, I had already left him but he was still planning to understand what I meant by that. On one of those trips he brought his colleague from his new job with him called Mr H, I am sure typing the name Mr H can’t show you all how deep I call the name these days… this is what ensued…
His instant persona sort of imprinted itself in my soul and immediately I was wondering if they had both planned the logic behind meeting me together. We had a good evening at the heart of the London Shard Restaurant Plateau and half way through the meal Mr D excused himself to the gents while I sat there staring at Mr H face in face, my hand in his palm…we were closing the last bit of a conversation about reading palms and soothsaying in Africa and laughing our heads off. He took my palm in his hand and just rubbed the middle and stroke my fingers simultaneously, he didn’t stare into my face neither did he bother to ask if that made me comfortable. He took complete control of the situation and my brain went into overdrive sending back oxytocin signals that would make any sane red-blooded woman jump the broom on the ultimate Cardinal Rule… Don’t love an ex’s friend even if he was as fit and good-looking as this Mr H.
Mr H came into my life pretty quick and by the evening ladies you’ll agree with me I already knew this is shag-material but listen to the but part first before you throw stones… He was very sincere and told Mr D that he loved hanging out with us but it may not be a good idea if we still had something going. Seriously I expected Mr D to say yes he still had feelings for me or show some melancholy or just a friendly reprimand, instead, instead he laughed so loud and went “I can so see you two hooking up”, what!! I stood there staring at him with pained face as he sold me to Mr H on a platter of gold… Oh! so gold…that we left the restaurant hand in hand laughing and giggling while Mr D looked like he had sold on credit… Some men can’t even fight for their women even if they were given grants from the government to do so. Let’s just say that was the last straw that broke the weakest link we had, Mr D disappointed me though in an intricately exciting twist I met the love of my life through him.
I am 40 he has never a day in the life of our romance talked about marrying me or even having kids. Every time I talk about moving in so we can get to understand each other he coyly steals the thunder with
‘Oh no! I hate cohabiting for such reasons, just give some time Marinette’
The shocking half of it is he wouldn’t even if he was drunk touch me without a condom. I have asked him to take a medical exam with me so we can have the confidence to be intimate even accidentally without protection and the answer has always been a procrastination. Meaning I can never even get pregnant by mistake. The world seems like the most complex unfair place to live in. I have found someone who doesn’t put me off physically emotionally or financially neither does he tell me or show me signs of not wanting me as a life partner – but there is a massive chasm that won’t let the relationship progress to the next level. Some nights the loneliness was unbearable not because he wasnt there but because he was a man i had but didn’t at thesame time.
I strongly feel carrying the burden of my personal life to work is not a yielding ethic so I try as must as I can to leave all of it behind and just wear a work face each day to make sure that I deliver my targets and work hard to earn a decent living making a name and career for myself. Sitting at my work desk and looking through as much management strategy cascades as possible my phone goes off a couple of times, a text alert and I am hesitant but decide to peak – it could be important and guess what it was – It was Mr H and the text read
“Protecting you and loving you the way I do has blinded me to actually revealing everything, let’s talk tonight and if what I have to say is something you can handle – then PLEASE MARRY ME”
At the dinner table that night it was evident that MR H was downcast and looked so dapper, I could still find all the reasons in this life to swear he was my dream man. Dating has been close to perfect so I am unsure what this thing he needs to say is but whatever it is – be it another woman or extramarital children I am so ready to carry that burden and keep this beautiful man. He was amazing. Then he spoke and the words shredded my life my dream my world and left me begging god to make me deaf and dizzy – his words became muddled up and incoherent and all I could hear were patches of condom, status, mistakes, HIV, living with, and the perspiration turned to palpitation and that’s how I zoned out and on a hospital bed grappling with my whole existence.
My Dream Man, My Dream Man – is there ever one?
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