A girl wants a man. A wealthy man, a successful men, a famous man, an interesting man, a macho, a talented man, a loving man, a man she loves, a father for her children, a friend, a sex-machine ? details may differ, but the main point stays the same. She wants a man. Some females want just money or a career, but if she denies her willingness to meet a real man ? she lies. Moreover, girls demands to what she calls a good man vary as she gets older.
 

A girl of 22 wants a prince on a white horse. A girl may claim shes realistic and doesnt look on the world through the pink glasses, but shell never confess dreaming of an ideal man. Hes got to be handsome, charming, popular. Hes got to be rich - probably not so rich, but always in funds. Of course, hes got to be generous to spend money on her. Hes got to be smart, brilliantly smart? to some girls its even more important than being very handsome, but of course his mind is never more important than his purse. Hes got to have a great sense of humor, to be athletic, stylish, romantic and a good listener, tender lover and… well, the list of his qualities can be prolonged on and on. A girl wants a man to adore her and to make her the goddess with flowers, gifts and promises of eternal love laid at her feet.

 

A girl of 32 wants just a good man. She has finally taken off those pink glasses and got rid of romantic fantasies. So her good man mustnt be a hero ? he is good-looking, has good manners, a well-paid job, a good car, a good house, and a good sum of money on a credit card. Also he carries bags from supermarket, likes her home-cooked dinners, laughs at her jokes, remembers the most important dates ? like her moms birthday, and able to express tenderness not less than one time per week. Such a nice domestic kind of a good man.

 

A girl of 42 wants just a man. That ordinary kind of man is not a movie star, he even has a belly instead of muscles? good if the shirt covers it all; sometimes a head lacking hair, but still isnt too disgusting. He shaves by the weekends, is still ?athletic? enough to do some housework, remembers where to laugh in the jokes, nods to show hes listening, takes her out once a month, drives her to the supermarket and back, doesnt set the car in motion until all womens parts of body are in, and puts the water-closet pans seat down.

A girl of 52 wants… well she just lives with that man. Its really nice if he remembers her name, shaves during weekends, sometimes gets a haircut, changes underwear and socks regularly, borrows money not too often, tries to behave himself in public. Its great if he also finds the strength to leave the coach for some weekends, notices delicious dinner while watching TV, doesnt always fall asleep while listening to a person. By this age a woman doesnt expect much, in fact she asks for the very minimum.

 

A girl of 62 wants a man who wont disturb her too often. Shes a lucky one, if hes not too scary to make his own grandchildren cry, if he still remembers where the bathroom is, where his teeth are, what month it is, who this woman is, what he is laughing at, and etc. A woman will appreciate his ability to get up, dress properly without much help from her side. The top of all dreams is if it doesnt cost a lot to keep that man, and if there are some places in the house, where his snore doesnt reach.

 

A girl of 72… well, some girls do live that long, but what about men? Are you sure hes still breathing? And he doesnt leave puddles in the water-closet? Oh, thats a real treasure for a tired girl of 72.

I can’t tell a soul

I love you

though my heart begs me to.

Every romantic song reminds me of you,

and every time I see a happy couple

I wish they were you and me.

Sometimes I write your name

and stare at it wistfully

as I imagine how great

our lives together would be…

but I can’t tell a soul

I love you.

I can’t even tell you.

I wrote a poem about you,

trying to express the depth of my emotion,

hoping to make you understand

the breadth of my devotion,

but the words were not enough.

I couldn’t explain

how strongly I feel about you;

I couldn’t describe

the volatile mix of joy and pain,

because I can’t tell a soul

I love you.

Sometimes I feel like my need to see you

is burning me up inside,

and sometimes when I think about you

I tremble…

my love for you is never easy to hide.

I called my best friend

to explain how much I love you…

but when the words crept onto my tongue,

I suddenly became mute,

and again, I had to pretend…

because I can’t tell a soul

I love you.

I sat on the beach

and drew a heart in the sand

while I thought about you.

I imagined the joy of being with you,

of simply holding your hand.

I wanted to find you;

I wanted to tell you how much I love you,

and that I would always love you

no matter what you do.

As the tide dashed in to steal the heart

and carry it off to the sea

where it would remain for eternity,

I decided that I can never tell you

I love you,