For the last month, some of my essays have had an emotional and rather subtle edge to them. The reason is easy to understand.
Last year, Jennifer Rose predicted I would accomplish two of three things: buy a house, purchase a dog, and get married. Well, I did only one of the three. I bought a house.
For the moment, a dog is out of the question -- for various reasons that are not pertinent to this essay. But I have come to the conclusion that it is time to find a mistress for the house with no name. It is time to get married.
My brother is fond of pointing out an ancient truth: "Everything has a sequence." And, even though it may sound a little odd in matters of romance, I have been thinking of some criteria for my long-postponed search.
So, here we go. My ideal mate should be:
- Latina -- after all, I am living in a Latin country
- A woman of faith -- that is actually my first criterion
- 45 to 50 -- those are years for those of you who may miss my point
- A holder of a post-graduate degree -- in either a profession or liberal arts
- Financially independent -- but with a net worth less than my own; I am not a gold digger
- Interested in music -- and capable of arguing both sides of whether the oriental scale is superior to the occidental
- Fascinated with art -- especially, abstract expressionism; after all, the house with no name is filled with paintings of that style
- Well-versed in film -- willing to appreciate both Woody Allen and Mel Brooks
- "Statuesque" -- with the rest of the list, is that surprising?
- A traveler -- and willing to take off on trips at the drop of a sombrero
- A good dancer -- that could easily be the second most important criterion
Just in case you are curious, this is not one of my jokester essays. My life is ready to take a turn for the better.
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