When Dreams May Come

Sweet baby Jesus y'all (as Gloria from BBW would say) I just had a hellova dream. 

I was working for someone ridiculously wealthy and they had me doing various projects and errands for them.  Anyway, why was their house like built into a football stadium?  You can probably see where I'm going with this.  So their home was built into a football stadium and I got lost.  A football player ... tall ... dark hair ... gorgeous hazel green eyes ... chiseled body ... bronzed skin ... just a complete Adonis to gaze upon asked me if I was lost.  In his beauty, absolutely!  I nodded.  He started to show me back to whence I came then stated he had oodles of time since I am working in the house adjacent to the stadium.  His eyes sparkled, his face lit up.  We went to security and I tried to give the name of my employers.  My filthy rich employers.  I'm drawing a blank.

So Adonis thinks I'm lying.  He's trying to get away.  He turns back toward the stadium and I'm left standing there looking like a drooling, stammering idiot.  My friend, who is their nanny comes in about five seconds later to watch him go away.  Her blond hair flowing like Maria in a wind machine.  She calls out to him Nick wait, you can still come with us.  He clutches his heart and growls at her?  WTF?

Ok so the damn dream was weird on a whole new level of weird, but I instantly woke up thinking 2 things:
1) I HAVE to blog about this, and
2) Why is it that men can have their pick of the litter when women are left to "settle"?

Dammit I absolutely, blatantly refuse (read me) REFUSE to settle for less than my Adonis.  I realize I have shortened my dating pool down to probably 20 men on the entire planet, but if that's my choice then so be it.  Now comes the task of actually finding him.  The Adonis for me.  This is one of the reasons I read romance novels.  The uber hot guy doesn't automatically fall for silicone perked up boobies and anorexic hips (no offense to those women struggling out there with those issues ... I'm just trying to make a point).  There is a chance that he actually falls for the "regular" every day fabulous woman.  Now I take my "go out" glam factor up a notch or three.  I consider myself an 8 on a 10 scale ... why is it so wrong of me to want the same?

A man that takes care of his body
A man that can hold an intelligent conversation and knows the difference between to and too or there, they're, and their
A man that was raised to be a gentleman
A man that likes to fish and hunt but doesn't necessarily expect me to skin what he catches
A man that has goals, like moving up with the company he works for or owning his own business one day
A man that doesn't have as many baby mamas as he has kids
A man that pays his court ordered child support if he does have kids
A man that has a decently cordial relationship with his ex wife, or baby mama
One that can actually make our combined $60K look, and feel like $600K without giving me the business for getting a pedicure
One that is not immediately looking at the size of my chest or backside, but is actually looking at my face, eyes, and wondering what his mother would think of me
and finally,
One that actually understands that both of us have faults so there is no need to hold them over one another's head every day.

I know I'm wishful thinking because I'm ever hopeful that this man that I've described comes in a package over 5'10" tall at least, with an accent that isn't Spanish as a bonus.  I've tried to look past physical appearance alone and get to know men before I know what they look like (via email) and once I get the photo ... I am slightly disappointed.  That makes me wonder how disappointed they may be on the other side of MY email.  So when does it become looking good to be a better YOU versus looking good to impress a better kind of man?

I need cyber world answers on this one.  Comments are opened up.