Like a lot of little girls, I had very specific notions about the man I was going to marry. Unlike a lot of them, however, I never based my decisions on strength, or attractiveness, or how many ponies he was reasonably able to afford. Almost all my pre-emptive relationship decisions seem to have been based on the minimal amount of effort I’d potentially have to put into them. I never wanted to marry a prince, because that meant going to a load of boring public events where school children sang at you. Marrying any member of Take That (hot then, hot now) would involve a worrying amount of competition from other women. So I set my sights reasonably low. (According to my mother, very little has changed in that regard.)
A Naval Officer
I’ve never seen An Officer and a Gentleman, but I suppose I’m familiar enough with the iconic Richard Gere-picking-up-a-lady scene, and it’s probable my eight year old self was equally familiar. However, I don’t think my dreams of marrying a naval officer was based on being lifted by Richard Gere, although now it probably is. My desire had more to do with the fact that naval officers are gone like, 11 months of the year. That gives me 11 months to do whatever the hell I like, like getting my hair done and staring out to sea. Then pow, one solid month of being an awesome wife. Life doesn’t get much better than that. Of course, there will always be the creeping suspicion that my husband is conducting an illicit affair with his Lieutenant, but no relationship is perfect.
A Blind Dude
For awhile I was convinced that when I grew up I'd marry a blind dude. For one thing, blind people get the best dogs. They're always the fluffiest and smartest. Guide dogs have such a wise, official aura that whenever I see one I want to ask it to do my tax returns. But that's not all. If I were married to a blind dude I wouldn't even have to keep the house that clean or put make-up on, as long as neither me nor the house smelled that bad. There's great freedom in that. I think I could build a great intimacy with someone who didn't know how bad my skin gets when I fall asleep drunk with my makeup on.
I always tell people that John Cusack was my first ever big crush, but that's not technically true. When I was about seven, my next door neighbor had a tape of Riverdance at Rwanda. I don't know why, but for some reason I thought Michael Flatley was the sexiest man alive. I don't know if I used the word "sexiest" back then, but I'm sure I had some child-friendly non-creepy adjective I used. My Michael Flatley obsession is my only childhood crush that I genuinely can't explain. I think I just loved the idea of being married to the Lord Of The Dance. That would make me the Lady of The Dance, a title I'd still be pretty comfortable with. Unfortunately, I still have the rhythm of a spastic goose so the only chance of earning that title would be through marriage. Also, it's undeniable that Flatley has enough gold to keep my ponies in mink all winter long.
All My Dad's Friends
My parents have a story they like to tell about me, they like to call it the moment they knew a life of celibacy was never going to be in my future. It's not really a story, more of a childhood character trait, that basically consisted of me following my dad's friends around the house. If I really took a shine to them, I'd follow them to the bathroom and waited outside the door for them so I could recommence the stalking process. I don't know how my dad's friends felt about this, but I do remember my parents having gradually less company over to the house as the years went on.