I saw the most beautiful man today, walking along beside the river. I feel quite conflicted though; while he was visually stunning, he clearly didn't have the other attributes I value in potential sex/like/love partners. Don't you just hate people who confuse you like that? But he was nice and tall, with a lean, slightly muscled build. He had these incredibly long legs that joined at the perfect mound of arse: tight, slightly swollen, and I'm sure quite hairless. Facially he was very cute. Floppy dark blond hair, dark eyes (which are usually a problem for me!), and quite tanned skin. And the killer? He had a very light spattering of freckles across his nose! Adorable!

Unfortunately, he, I'm sure, is quite poor. He had some like, imitation surf-brand backpack. Like, I know, yeah. Ew. I probably would have turned him down even for having a proper surf-brand backpack (what is this, primary school?), and he was wearing like, chinos. And not, like, Acne chinos, but like full-on walking-in-the-bush style chinos. Well, they were quite tight, but show a little respect! Oh, and his t-shirt? Bundie Rum! Bwahahaha. I thought at first that it was perhaps an ironic choice. Well, I hoped it was, and that he really preferred French martinis, bad lounge music, and deep rimming, but somehow I don't think so. I think he actually wore that t-shirt because... well, he thought it looked good! He probably got it out of a showbag. Sigh. And anyway, he was wearing Dunlops. And I don't care what people say. Dunlops NEVER look good. Not even on you faux-punk "alternative" types who listen to JJJ and eat sushi because it's Zen-y and shit. No Volleys.

But the real problem was that I think his mother picked him up... and he waved at her! Now, I don't have a problem with people being friendly with their mothers. My mother and I wave at each other all the time, but it's a sort of dignified, "ciao" kind of wave. He gave this sort of weird, child-like wave and sort of smiled. Weird. This guy must have been at least 20. I'm thinking he could have been mildly retarded. I mean, it would explain the wardrobe, the shoes (hey, retards won't care if you dress them in twenty-dollar shoes and not $400 suede shoes *cough*), and the backpack. At the very least he could be quite simple, which is utterly charming in a weird way. As much as I picture my ideal man to be a hot rich foreign dude with razor-sharp cheekbones with a razor-sharp wit and razor-sharp credit cards, a part of me would be quite happy with a simpleton. No dramas, no jealousy. They would probably be a tradie or perhaps a gardener. He would come home each day, sigh, and flop on the lounge with a beer. Of course he'd be ripped to shit and have a bottomless mouth and asshole, but still. Perhaps the simple life is for me?

Hmm. Well, maybe not. But I know tonight, after the lights are out, I will think warm thoughts of my mysterious simpleton. Which is really, really disturbing.