Like most men with a reasonably normal lust for those of the opposite gender, my life has been an endless search for female companionship.
Unfortunately, the odds of finding the perfect woman are about the same as the odds of finding the lost Arc of the Covenant in a dumpster in Bayonne, New Jersey.
When I was 12, I hoped to one day have a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I was very shy and often had a zit on the end of my nose. I made up for it with a Sears catalog behind closed doors and lots of imagination. But that soon got messy and boring.
So I decided to look for a real girl. Any girl would do.
When I was 14, I hooked up with my first girlfriend. She was real cute and giggled a lot. But we just didn't click. I spent most of the time trying to figure out my next move, while she spent most of the time reading books about horses.
So I decided I needed a passionate girl.
When I was 17, I found a passionate girl. In fact, she was so passionate she believed in sharing it with every other guy in high school and much of the rest of the world.
So I decided I needed a girl with stability.
When I was 22, I dated a very stable woman. She was highly organized. Her wardrobe was hung in the closet alphabetically by manufacturer, sub-ordered by descending purchase date. She had a goldfish named Goldfish Number 2. It was her second goldfish. Her sexual orientation was from page 44 of "Sexual Positioning for Maximum Results." Everything was so categorized, I yearned for a Sears catalog once again.
So I decided I needed a girl with some spunk.
When I was 26, I found a spunky girl. Perhaps a bit too spunky. She had a tattoo of a spider on her neck, drank Tennessee whiskey straight from the bottle and owned 19 cats. Her favorite pastimes were arguing and setting things on fire. One day we had a disagreement over which way the toilet paper should roll and she torched my car.
So I decided to find a woman who was laid back.
When I was 31, I found a woman who was laid back. In fact, she was so laid back, she rarely got off the couch. Her hippie pad tended to be a bit neglected. There was a large plant in the corner of the living room. It just started growing there one day. She dried it out and smoked it anyway. I think it was either a fern or a fungus. She didn't get very high but she farted a pungent green mist for three days straight.
So I decided I needed a woman with more ambition.
When I was 37, I found a woman who was ambitious. She had a bachelor's degree in economics, an MBA from a prestigious college and was a Senior Systems Analyst for a large corporation. Her townhouse was trendy, her car was a BMW, her music was New Age and her wardrobe was proper. Unfortunately, she had this peculiar notion that those around her should also be ambitious.
So I decided to find a woman who wasn't demanding.
When I was 44, I found a woman who wasn't demanding. She was quite easygoing and tolerant of my various quirks. I later found out that her other three personalities weren't quite as affable. Sometimes, when she ran out of medication, all four personalities came out at once and began arguing with one another about the origin of the universe and the optimal length of an orgasm while in the lotus butterfly position.
So I decided to stop searching so hard for the perfect woman and sleep on it.
Then one dark night (they're always dark; that's why they call it night), I had a dream about a woman who walked like a gazelle, sang like a morning dove, purred like a tiger and smiled like a hungry alligator. Not exactly perfection, I could do without the smile, but close enough.
A gift from another dimension.
At last, I've found the perfect relationship. I now reside in the best of both worlds. My daylight hours are uninterrupted by catering to someone else's needs and I get to spend every night with the perfect woman.
My lifelong search for female companionship has finally ended.
With my luck, a real woman will come along any day now and spoil the whole thing.
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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. | 
