Sunday, September 6, 2015


On Friday evening, just before I left Surrey and drove out to the lake, I read a post that a young facebook friend had posted. It was a list. And I love lists. Hers was titled: Application for a Boy Bestfriend: (She originally posted it in 2008.)

Must like Taco Del Mar.
Must want to travel.
Must text me back.
Must call and check up daily.
Must have a job or attend something that proves to me you are going somewhere.
Must like being critical.
Must like laughing.
Must recycle.
Must not have boobs bigger than mine.
Must not care about RockBand or Guitar Hero.
Must watch Seinfeld.
Must wear boxer briefs?
Must not have an accent.
Must like cottage cheese and Bonanza salad bar.
Must not like Nickelback.
Must like watching zombie movies.
Must like Kraft Dinner.
Must like sleepovers.
Must like The Office.
Must not do hard drugs.
Must respect my love for cats.
Must not smoke.
Must have nice teeth.
Must make me laugh.
Must like dancing in random hick town tents.
Must like sunsets and taking pictures.
Must like Tila Tequila.
Must like 2% milk.
Must like watching Cops.
Must like drives to the lake.
Must have sick style.
Must love StepBrothers and Will Ferrell.
Must let me wear their glasses if applicable.
Must not litter, or kill mice.
Must chew with mouth closed.
Must not chew tobacco.
Must not have children.
Must not find Craven interesting in anyway.
Must be chill.
Must like to zone out my whining.
Must not want to give advice on guy issues.
Must send me puns over text to make my day better.
Must squish spiders.
Must text me at 11:11.
Must not have a girlfriend/ or bitchy bootycall. Normal bootycalls are alright.
Must not like George Bush.
Must dream at night.
Must dream big in life.
Must have own mode of transportation with access to air conditioning.
Must like watching me do laundry.
Must tell me if I have something in my teeth.
Must comment on how white my teeth are.
Must never look better in comparison.
Must like Dr. Pepper slurpees.
Must care.
Must buy suckers for the car just incase I get car sick.
Must not try to flatter me.
Must believe in something-- including themselves.
Must not expect me to get ready to hang out.
Must get up for breakfast.
Must like swimming laps.
Must not hunt.
Must use grammar.
Must be intellectual and spelling must be above average.
Must not bite fingernails.
Must have a longer list of wants than I have.
Must be fit.
Must not be a transgender?
Must not drink too much.
Must like food as much as I do.
Must read me my horoscope daily.
Must be able to lift me.

With her list fresh on my mind, I mentally made up my own list during my hour-long commute to Cultus:

Must laugh more than yell.
Must have texting skills.
Must like McDonalds. For, you know, emergency meals.
Must enjoy traveling/exploring new places.
Must love sitting in the sun.
Must know how to read.
Must not do drugs.
Must chew with mouth closed.
Must be a skilled hand holder.
Must floss and remember to flush.
Must be a relaxed driver.
Must not be a douche.
Must value family.
Must know the difference between they’re, their, and there.
Must not be a vegetarian.
Must be OK with my camera being a constant companion.
Must love Jesus.
Must know how to use a hammer.
Must have friends.
Must not get drunk.
Must be intimately familiar with praying.
Must not love shopping. Especially on vacations.
Must smile often. At me.
Must know how to say I’m sorry.
Must be a good forgiver.
Must love movies.
Must sing along.
Must snore loudly and sleep soundly.
Must find laugh wrinkles adorable.
Must attend church.
Must anticipate, with joy, the opportunity to carry groceries into the cabin at midnight.
Must know how to wink.
Must notice the moon.
Must agree that I'm right about 50% of the time.
Must believe.
Must enjoy giving and receiving back rubs.
Must appreciate good chocolate and fresh, soft hot dog buns.
Must not be allergic to down-filled comforters.
Must not care about matching socks.
Must know how to set up a TV and sound system.
Must not be a coffee snob.
Must be an expert at giving, asking for, and getting help.
Must not wear more jewellery than me.
Must be a blower, not a sniffer.
Must be a Man.
Must gag at pulpy orange juice.
Must pray.
Must know how to hang a picture, change a lightbulb, and assemble Ikea bookshelves.
Must never force me to eat beans and fried mushrooms for breakfast.
Must have a Bible that is well used.
Must kill spiders.
Must be interested and interesting.
Must feel affection for the Obros.

However, in the end. only 7 of those are truly 'musts'. The rest really don't matter.

1 comment:

September said...

I liked your list.
Enjoy your trip and I'm looking forward to your photos!