It's Got to Be Perfect: the memoirs of a modern-day matchmaker Read Online Free PDF Page A

to his default sexuality ‘I think I deserve a room full of Playboy Bunnies and a permission slip from my girlfriend. But I’m going to get that though, am I?’
    I lunged forward and slapped him on the arm. ‘You shouldn’t want Playboy Bunnies. You’re supposed to be in love.’
    ‘Oh yes, I forgot. You also believe that a man who loves you should never so much as imagine having sex with anyone else because that’s disloyal.’
    ‘That’s because I have good values.’
    ‘You have idealistic values. There’s a distinct difference.’
    I sighed, feeling like a deflated balloon at the end of a party.
    Matthew’s expression softened as he shuffled up next to me and wiggled his fingers in my face. ‘Are my hands manly?’
    I inspected them and then laughed. ‘You’ve had a manicure?’
    He frowned. ‘Well, what about your feet, Miss Perfect?’ He glanced down at my size eights. ‘They wouldn’t look out of place on a seven foot basketball player.’
    I kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes.
    ‘Seriously though, no one is perfect. You have to give up your quest for the ideal man or you are only going to be disappointed. And even if you do find a man possessing all your requirements, who’s to say, he would want to date a banana-footed fussypants?’
    I huffed and then folded my arms. ‘So, instead, I’m supposed to settle? For someone I don’t fancy or even like?’
    He took a sip of wine.
    ‘Or should I have stayed with Robert, embraced polyamory and moved to a commune in California?’
    Matthew’s expression morphed into his newsreader-face, a familiar precursor to a serious talk. ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
    ‘So what are you saying?’
    He looked me directly in the eye, ‘If Robert didn’t look like your perfect man? If he wasn’t a tall, good-looking investment banker who drove an Aston Martin, would you have fallen in love with him?’
    I took another large glug of wine and considered what he had said.
    ‘The issue is,’ he went on, as though having been chimed in by Big Ben. ‘You made too many assumptions based on the fact that he looked perfect to you.’
    I nodded, taking in the headline but wanting the full story.
    ‘So, my wise guru, if my perfect man might not look like my perfect man, then how am I supposed to know who he is?’
    ‘Well, firstly,’ he said raising a finger, his face fighting a smile. ‘We’ve already established that there are no perfect men. That’s error number one in your pursuit of love. You really must pay attention.’
    I rolled my eyes. ‘Okay then. I stand corrected. As you are the font of all knowledge on this matter, are you going to find Mr Not-so-perfect-but-right for me?’
    He laughed. ‘What, like your personal matchmaker?’
    I nodded. ‘You know me. You know what I’m looking for. So go find him. I’ll pay you in wine,’ I said and then refilled his glass.
    Matthew stared at me for a moment, then pulled his glasses down to the end of his nose and picked up the notepad and pen from the coffee table.
    ‘Right, young lady,’ he said, adopting a matronly voice, ‘you say you want to meet a wealthy man. Could you explain why this is so important to you?’
    I giggled. ‘So I can live in a big house and have a nice lifestyle, without having to worry about money.’
    The cringe crept in as soon as I had said it.
    ‘Well, madam,’ he began, peering over his glasses, ‘in this day and age, a lady can go out and achieve such things without the aid of a man. So, you’re just being a lazybones. I’m going to cross that one off your list.’
    ‘Er,’ I said, trying to interrupt but he or she was in full flow.
    ‘And what’s all this about appearance? You say you want a handsome man. Don’t we all dear?’ he said as he hoisted up his imaginary bosoms. ‘But those good-looking ones are often a bit full of themselves and rather high maintenance, don’t you think? I’ll cross that off too.’
    Before I was even close to