The Perfect Man does not drown his desires in wretched excess. He does not need to be flashy in order to prove who he is. He doesn't wear fancy clothes, his baseball hat turned at a 3/4 angle, or a Rolex, authentic or clever fake from Korea. He doesn't drive a BMW, Jaguar or big Lincoln Town Car that is too wide to fit down most of the streets in Allston. In fact, his primary mode of transportation is a hovercraft. Either that or a blimp. A hovercraft is definitely better, but a blimp will suffice. Or a fire truck. A nice big, red, shiny fire truck.

The Perfect Man is entertaining, and can provide all sorts of amusement and such at my bidding. I'm not saying that The Perfect Man plays the bagpipes, but I'm hinting at it. He may also be a superstar in the international Polka scene, playing a lime green accordion with my name emblazoned on the side in diamonds. Alternately, he may be well versed in the papercraft arts, and can make origami hedgehogs out of napkins as we sit in the train station waiting for the Amtrak to take us to Dollywood.