Take the looks of one person, the work habits of another, the intellect of a third, the romantic artistry of yet another, and the soul of a fifth. Slice, dice, mix, and stir. Serving for one: special friend.
A "special friend," of course, is my current best term for people far enough past being teens or twentysomethings that "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" seems silly. ("He was old enough to be a boy's father around the first Gulf War, wasn't he?")
The problem is that we can't change other people. We can experience with them sunsets of contentment and peace or nights of mattress gymnastics. Then we wake up to coffee and headlines and reality.
Wrinkles, a penchant for getting out to work too slowly, a need to have everything explained and every g-spot mapped, and the profundity of Willy Loman. What was I drinking, smoking, thinking? More plausibly and less cinematic ... this is a solitary bird who will never pair well. Or ... I've lost the mental hike shoes for this climb.
If only we could combine the favorite bits of each potential special friend into the Perfect One ... !
