Mr. Right?

I have heard that many women pine over finding Mr. Right. I can't presume to be Mr. Right myself, but as a kind, conscientious male who puts the toilet seat down and can cook for himself, I figured that I might have something to share with those still searching. I have analyzed some similarly suited friends, and here is what I came up with:

First off, you probably won't find us at bars. Some friends and I had a fantasy of going into a bar and ordering a Diet Coke for when we turned 21; aside from that, we have no real desire to even go inside such an establishment. Going into a bar makes me in particular feel physically ill; we'd rather hang out in areas that speak to our individual interests— a book/music store, coffee shop, national park, etc.

I find that what attracts us the most is a strong personality. Not a disagreeable personality, but a woman who knows what she wants out of life and has the personal gumption to go for it.

Lastly, we aren't actively searching. We tend to be watchful, but while we're waiting for the opportunity to present itself, we go about living the rest of our lives. Men like me also believe that a true lover should also be a best friend, so we don't have compunctions about dating close friends. Mr. Close-Enough-to-Be-Right may be closer than you think.

I realize that I don't speak for all males, or even most of them. I'm not saying we're perfect or what every woman would want. All I can share is my own experiences and what I have seen from them.


I have to tell ya, Ricardo, color me cautious, but if some strange dude started chatting me up in a park, I'd be thinking Ted Bundy, not Tom Terrific, and run screaming to the nearest handsome park ranger. Your other meet-and-greet venues are nonthreatening (if a bit dull), but there's something about the cover of trees and long, deserted paths that gives this city girl the creeps. Lions and tigers and rapists, oh my!

Your odd aversion to bars has me a little puzzled. If you're a teetotaler, that's all well and good, but your prissy attitude makes it sound like you think of bars as modern-day Sodoms and Gomorrahs, tempting innocents with demon liquor and hosting orgies and whatnot. Actually, most are just like restaurants without all the bothersome food nonsense. Plus, booze is yummy in my tummy.

Anyway, getting back to your letter . . . you point out that you are not looking for a girlfriend but wouldn't turn one down if she happened to come a-knocking at your door, holding a pizza and a six-pack of, erm, Diet Coke. However, it's been my experience that outside of pornographic movies, this type of scenario rarely occurs.

Women who bemoan the fact that there are no decent men are generally out there, actively looking. (Otherwise they're not allowed to bitch—sorry ladies, those are the rules.) For their stamina and optimism, I applaud them. It's not easy being a dater. Hell, up until recently, I was a hard-core dater (and don't think for a minute I'm getting smug or secure in my coupledom; I'm sure I'll be out there pounding the pavement myself once again someday soon). However, boyfriend shopping doesn't generally involve going door-to-door like some sort of Amway salesperson. So instead, we rely on tried-and-true methods such as fix-ups from friends, the Internet, interoffice romance, random strangers in random coffeeshops, and yes, the occasional bar hookup.

I hasten to add that no matter how heavy our dating habits might be, most of us ladies do manage to enjoy full lives that are packed with other, less peniphilic pursuits.

You sound like a nice guy, and that's swell, but there's more to being a catch than being capable of cooking your own meals and remembering to return the toilet seat to the down position. (Why do men think this is such a big deal? You fellas get up to far more annoying crap than that.) There are no awards ceremonies for being a functioning adult. Hell, I don't expect kudos because I usually remember to flush my tampons and hardly ever drink wine straight out of the bottle.

Looking for love? Write Dategirl at or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.

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