PICKY. An adjective meaning choosy or fussy, especially excessively so. Difficult to please.

I guess there are worse things to be.  It’s just that I’m 22 and  I don’t want to waste anybody’s time. This isn’t to mean that I’m one of those girls who, at the onset of puberty, complains, “My Biological Clock is A-Tickin’!“  I never saw the next logical life step, post-graduation, as me landin’ mah-self a fine husband and starting the barefoot-and-pregnant days of my fertile early twenties. [Although, to be fair, I do like being barefoot.]  And I do, as you can tell, like interrupting, the normal flow to a sentence, with a quick phrase, offset by commas.

But Fellas — if I can collectively address you as Fellas — we women do look ahead. The scary ones among us are scanning your features and calculating your future baby’s genetic combinations.  Me (hopefully the less scary among us), I can only wrap my mind around a year forward, after that chemical bath of love has warn off.  I look at the little common-interest factors that make two people compatible.  Because after you’re done fucking this extremely gorgeous person you’ve picked out for yourself, you need to talk about something, that’s why.  (Or maybe you don’t. Maybe that’s my problem.) : :: Nick Hornby, High Fidelity: “…It’s no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn’t even speak together if they met at a party.”

And while I’m at it, people underestimate the power of chemistry so much that I could puke.  We all have the ability to flirt with whomever we want, whether we’re attracted to him/her or not.  We all know the script; we know how to respond to the cues.  Fine, dandy.  But chemistry! Ah! That’s the best.  And it frustrates me when people try to manufacture chemistry where there is none.  While it may not be ridiculously immediate, I don’t think it’s something that takes very long.  Why people think they can force it is beyond me and has been frustrating me as of late.

And you know how I arrived here?  ENF-fuckin’-J, man.  ENFJ.  Extroverted. Intuitive. Feeling. Judging.  It’s that damn Myers-Briggs Personality Test that I’ve taken 2398472343 times and everytime I get the same results: ENFJ. I’m so prone to feeeeeling and intuition and how do you feeeeellll and tell me how you feeeeellll and why aren’t you feeeeelllling this vibe that I’m getting and feeeeellll with me, let’s feeeeeeeel.  Although, I will point out, Fellas, that THIS SITE mentions that ENFJ’s are GREAT in the sack., which I will back completely.

I’m just sayin’, it’s chemistry, man, don’t you feel it?

MANifesto!
Is it too much to ask that a man is:
+ Open and honest
+ Affectionate.
+ Funny. Funny. Funny.
+ Self-confident.
+ Intellectual.

and not:
- Vain
- Aggressive
- Intolerant
- Petty
- Disease-infested

????

And in addition a man who:
+ Can produce for me his  Top Ten Albums of All Time
++ Has a Beatles or Bob Dylan record in said Top Ten
+ Will spin me around on a dance floor
+ Will give me adequate Jenn-Time
+ Will give me adequate Sex-Time
+ Tell me I look like the eastern-european princess I am in the morning light, even though I look like shit
+ Will constantly surprise me
+ Is Jon Stewart

And won’t:
- Laugh at me when I cry at silly commericals
- Try to schmooze my parents in that really cheesy salesman way
- Be really clinical when it comes to dating me. I hate dating formalities.
- Talk about how much money he’ll be making in 2.5 years even though you know he’ll still be living off his parents, you arrogant prick
- Like the bands Fastball, Smashmouth, The Offspring, or Everclear

????

PICKY.  An adjective meaning choosy or fussy, especially excessively so. Difficult to please.