I haven’t unpacked this yet, but I can’t stand a whiny man. Yes, everyone gets to be vulnerable. Everyone gets to fall down.

But whenever I hear a man “woe is me” I lose all respect. Back in the bad times, on my honeymoon, the ex whined the whole time and it led to meltdowns on my part. He was emo from the moment I picked him out.

That’s not ingrained toxic masculinity on my part. I’m not part of the patriarchy. It’s just that the things these guys complain about they chalk up to bad luck or everyone else getting a break. And nothing is ever their fault.

You want to complain about your life? Have something valid to complain about because I’m over here with all sorts of challenges and rare is the day I collapse into a puddle of tears. I’m London during the Blitz. I stay calm and carry on.

It doesn’t trigger me in the same way it used to. It probably keeps me from going anywhere or doing anything with certain guys and they know it. They recede into the wallpaper and send me irregular dispatches from the land of beta males. I never have to say a word. They just self-deselect themselves for service of her majesty, Vene.

The man who will eventually be right will probably end up being somewhat traditional, I think. And non-American, also. Hunches. But educated guesses. I need a cowboy. Someone whose stoicism is honorable. I don’t care if he drinks and smokes or doesn’t tell me he loves me every day. I’ll know his love in the acts of kindness he performs. His steadfastness. His courtesy. His quiet contemplation. He will be amused by my flair and buoyancy. He will let me grab his face and smother him with kisses.

In everyday life I play the stoic queen carved from sincere marble, balanced on a high pillar made of same. But for the man to come, I will be flesh or I’ll be nothing at all. I shan’t have to be praised for being brave. And for his kindness I’d repay him in endless devotion and a life made softer by my thoughtfulness.