The (practically) perfect man

I am writing this post from the apartment of the perfect man (and on his roommate's ipad which is tricky to use and does not allow me to spellcheck, just as a heads up.) I have found him here in california.
His name is Travis, he lives on 61st street in North Oakland CA with a charmingly composed roommate Mike. He is hilarious and kind, came to my rescue the moment I needed him, can talk about any subject for hours on end, plays foursquare brilliantly AND he may be the first man I have ever met to fully not care what anyone else thinks about him. When I'm with him I feel so at ease, have so much fun, and just become more enraptured with the world and the fabulous humans it can create. A weekend with Travis has been like picnicing on clouds ; beautiful and calming and so fantastical you feel like whooping in delightbefore biting into a watercress sandwich (because what other kind of sandwich would you take on a picnic to the sky?)

Two clarifications:

1) I didn't meet travis in california, I've known him since the fates brought us together in law school homeroom four years ago.
2) Travis likes men.


No this is a not a post of a single woman lamenting the fact that her perfect guy is gay (though I do find the object of my affection to be a delightful movie). Instead it's a realization of the fact that I do have someone, albeit someone who lives across the country with me, who emobodies so much of what I am looking for in the hetero variety. I tend to get anxious with friends and boyfriends alike about whether I am doing and saying the right thing much more so than with strangers ( yes, I know this is strange but I thank you for your concern, at least ut makes me a great FIRST date!) This obviously proves establishing relationships of any variety more taxing but with Travis our relationship just IS this wonderfully symbiotic union, I never have the same fears of losing him that so often plague my encounters with others. Travis and I, in fact, work almost too well as half our friends in law school were convinced we were dating, undoubtedly lowering both our odds of finding someone to whom we were actually atrracted.

Relationships are supposed to make us better. I want to be with someone who, instead of making me question the idea of attending a pig roast in a national park, dives right into judging a sauce contest with abandon and no napkins. People continuously ask me what my type is and while there are some features I seem unable to disentangle myself from, (brown haired hipsters who remain rather thin without ever attending the gym apparently is one) nothing is set is soap stone. Really you don't know squat until you're lost in the Bronx trying to find something to fill your hungry stomach. Which is why this project will hopefully lead to something meaningful, someone complimentary, and, maybe even some time that feels like picniking on a cloud.