THE MAN I WANT.

Cromwell Argus, Volume LXIII, Issue 3250, 13 February 1933, Page 7

THE MAN I WANT.

Most Women Will Agree With This Writer’s Description of the Ideal Man.

Many men are charming companions for a particular mood; some are passionate lovers; others are strong and protecting; while still more appeal to a woman’s maternal instinct because they are weak or careless. The ideal man would be all these iu turn. Sometimes, when a woman is tired or worried, she needs a paternal care and friendship; sometimes she craves the fierce passion of love; and she occasionally likes to feel the joy of consoling and caring for that little boy which is a part of every man until the day of his death.

I realise that such perrection is a world dream. There are no perfect men, and no perfect women. All I can do is just pick out a few of the qualities in a man which appeal to me.

I would prefer a man to be reasonably good-looking, of course —but excessive handsomeness is by no means an essential.

He need not be tall and brawny, but he would have to stand his full height, not lounge about sloppily all the time. I like a man to have some form of outside sport—it doesn’t matter much what! —cricket, tennis, football, rowing—even golf! But not bowls, at any rate till he is past the fifty mark.

So much for his external appearance. But what of his character — which is far more important? To gain my love a man would have to have been “up against things” face hardship, responsibility, danger, even death —and emerged smiling with his ideals unimpaired. Good manners are another thing I insist on, and they are not necessarily the product of wealth, good birth, or a superlative education. Some of the best-mannered men I know are ordinary men working for a few shillings a week. I do detest whole-heartedly the type of man who exercises clever-clever sarcasm on persons not in a position to answer him back or who, in any way, causes embarrassment to his “inferiors.” There are some young men who try to be impressive in restaurants either by bullying the unfortunate waiter for something that nine times out of ten is not his fault, or by making “clever” jokes at his expense which cause him to writhe in mental torment, but at which he must show no sign of retaliation. The sort of man I love would make it his chief duty in life never to inflict pain. If he had money he would spend it wisely. I have no more respect for the over-lavish spendthrift than I nave for the cringing miser.

And though he would have big ambitious, and work hard to fulfil them, he would not be so wrapped up in business as to forget the little joys of life. He wouldn’t grumble or walk peevishly up and down the garden path if I happened to be a long while adjusting my hat—a conspicuous habit among business men! He wouldn’t ever, ever rush me. He would remember the small things I liked him to do, and do them without comment. The man I could love would be always high-spirited and independent—full of personality and sympathy, courage and love.