Wanted: One Hubby

A few days ago, I was watching “There’s Something About Mary” and couldn’t help but snicker when one of my favorite scenes came on. Mary is having lunch with a few girlfriends and describes her perfect man:

“I want a guy who can play 36 holes and still have enough energy to take me and Warren to a ballgame and eat hot dogs, I’m talkin’ sausage hot dogs, and beer, not light beer, but beer…that’s my ad, print it up!”

This got me thinking. If I had to write a Want Ad for the perfect mate, what would it sound like?

19-year-old-me would have written:

Seeking hot Masshole who smokes Parliaments and wears baggy pants.

Must love techno, staying up all night, skateboarding, and illegal activities.

Bonus points are awarded for tattoos, piercings, goatees and pink hair.

Would prefer that you have a car, don’t live with your parents, and have never been arrested (but these requests are not deal-breakers).

You will be expected to attend raves, buy me illicit substances, and not be weirded out when I jump into cuddle puddles filled with sweaty teenagers.

If you meet these criteria, please come over with Doritos, a freshly packed bong, and the latest from Paul Oakenfold.

33-year-old me would write:

Seeking intelligent beefcake who enjoys sarcasm and using lint rollers.

Must love cats, organizing your sock drawer, and celebrity gossip.

Bonus points are awarded if you vacuum more than 3 times a week, alphabetize your books and CDs, and rearrange your fridge for fun.

Would prefer that you can cook,  own a nice suit, and have an obsession with hot sauce (but these requests are not deal-breakers).

You will be expected to compete in Tough Mudders, put up with my neuroses, and keep your apartment immaculate at all times.

If you meet these criteria, please come over with banana peppers, a bottle of Jamesons, and the latest copy of In Touch Weekly.

Why Ray Donovan Should Marry Me

I would make him incredibly happy. True, I can’t cook, I don’t really like children, and I would probably crash our new Audi while taking it for a test drive…but I would win him over with my biting sense of humor and give him a foot massage while he plans his next murder and cleans his guns. Here’s why I would make a wicked awesome wife:

I wouldn’t question why he disappears for days, as long as he wouldn’t question why I only eat banana peppers and hot sauce.

I love boxing, and he owns a boxing gym. I would jab my way into his heart.

I’m from Boston, and so is he. Wicked cute. We could gaze longingly into each other’s eyes over a hazelnut Dunkies while talking about the Red Sox, and how Sully is a bad-ass.

I find his arrogance and deep voice intoxicating.

I would totes become BFFs with his cute little lesbian assistant. Chick’s got crazy good style and a deliciously sassy attitude.

I’d become a solid drinking buddy for his emotionally-stunted brother. We’d enjoy cheap whiskey and I would hug him and try to help him stay on a path to fulfillment and stability.

I would try to pretend that his cheating didn’t bother me, as long as he is cool with me cuddling with his emotionally-stunted brother after too much Seagrams 7.

If I ever found a dead body in the backyard, I would stick it in the wood chipper, toss the evidence into the neighbor’s yard, then call the cops. I’m just a good wife like that.