The perfect man, I had him once

I know what you are thinking, the perfect man doesn't exist and if he did, how did I end up with him and not you? Well, you could have had him too but didn't even know it. Were you paying attention? I sure was and let me tell you, I wish he were here today.

I met him a long time ago, what seems like an eternity. He was unexpected. It was almost as if he was handed to me right when I thought life wasn't going to get any better. It was perfect timing. He seemed very stoic at first, not really much for a lot of chit chat but soon enough he opened up to me. I was like he was only talking to me and everyone else didn't matter, just me. I felt so special with him, he would go with me everywhere I wanted. And he did anything I wanted.

He was a very sturdy man, strong arms, confident stance and perfect hair with not a strand out of place. I was so proud to call him my own and would show him off to all my friends. Everyone else was jealous because theirs paled in comparison. Their men were older and didn't have as good of posture and the hair was somehow duller. They had lost their best attributes along the way but my man came fully equipped to deal with any mountain that crossed his path.

But alas even the perfect man will lose their appeal after a while. Because he was too perfect. He become complacent in regular daily routine and just sat there with a silly grin on his face like that would make things all better. He tried to hide the fact that he was coming unraveled from all the abuse I somehow caused him. But he agreed to the terms of this relationship, why is he complaining now? A few bumps and scrapes are nothing compared to how happy he made me, right? He stopped talking to me. He wouldn't even hug me anymore.

I don't know exactly when he left and how but I know it was swiftly and completely. I never saw him again except in pictures where we looked so happy together. He was gone as easily as he had arrived and I will never forget him. That sparkle in his eye. Those perfect teeth that seemed to shine like they were painted onto his face. The symmetric six pack of plastic muscles. I didn't even care about his arms that stuck straight in any direction they turned without bending at the elbow. And so what if he only had one little clip-on ski left, he could snowboard on the one remaining. He was my perfect man, gone forever, my Ski Fun Ken.