An Ideal Man

She was a lonely slut in her thirties looking for a partner after 
she'd divorced a no-good husband.

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An Ideal Man

When you're 33 and divorced a good man is hard to find. There's 
plenty of rubbish about, like the prime specimen I'd been stupid 
enough to fall in love with and marry, but no good ones. I 
certainly didn't want any more rubbish.

After a million rows, three affairs (his) and two black eyes I'd 
dumped the bastard. That's a man you're better off without.

Yet silly weak stupid female that I am I wanted a guy in my life. I 
needed one. Girlfriends are great but they're only the same as you 
are yourself. You need a male to talk to you in that male way they 
have You need a man to stroke his ego and manipulate him. Heck! 
Just to have a man's shirt in the wash. Somehow being half of a 
relationship makes you whole.

I met Elwyn Potter when I moved into a new block of flats. I 
thought at first he was the maintenance man, He was dressed in 
scruffy jeans, an old tee shirt and carrying a box of tools. He 
came to my door when I was up to my ears moving in and caught me 
looking a lot less than my best. At first I thought it was great 
for the janitor to help a tenant move in. However by the time he'd 
shifted the furniture, fixed all the light fittings got the cistern 
to flush, unblocked the drain and replaced the fuses on the 
electric stove I knew he was a lot more than a janitor.

As that impression grew so my self consciousness about how I looked 
grew with it. By the time we were near enough straight and ready 
for a cup of coffee I could only think that I looked a total mess 
and worry what he thought of me. At the same time I could tell that 
it simply never occurred to him what he looked like. That's one of 
the nice things about men: their innate self confidence. When women 
are self confident they've had to hype themselves up to it, which 
usually means spending half a day getting ready. At that stage it 
struck me that I ought to be feeling my usual lack of self 
confidence but I wasn't. How come?

It was because of the way Elwyn Potter was treating me. He wasn't 
arrogant or condescending as most men are. There were no sexy 
remarks or double entendres in his conversation. Nor was I picking 
up that lustful vibe that men give out and you know they're trying 
to get into your pants as soon as they've said hallo.

I realised that, unusually for a guy, Elwyn listened to what I said 
and took me seriously. It was kind of unnerving as if it gave me a 
responsibility I'd never been used to. It was so seldom that I'd 
had a proper adult to adult conversation with a guy. To my surprise 
I realised that simply to have a guy take you seriously like that 
was as sexy as hell.

Elwyn himself was just relaxed, helpful and friendly and I liked 
that. He seemed to be totally at peace with himself as if he had 
resolved all his hang ups years ago and put them behind him. I'd 
never met a guy quite like it. I suddenly had a desperate need to 
know if he was married or anything and I had to bite my tongue to 
avoid asking him outright.

It's not that he was particularly good looking. He was barely 
taller than me and I was barefoot. His rusty brown hair was untidy, 
his teeth uneven, his face was, well, ordinary but it was cute how 
his light brown eyes lit up when he smiled - which was often. Best 
of all, I'm ashamed to say, I loved the way his full rounded buns 
filled out his pants as he got down to lift a piece of furniture.

I suppose I'm the sort of woman often described as "no better than 
she should be." I was one of six kids and my father, a miner, was 
killed in a rock fall when I was seven. I dropped out of high 
school as soon as I was old enough and worked in a variety of shop 
floor factory jobs ever since. I've had more lovers than jobs since 
that first time on a coal heap when I was 12.

I had always thought of men as sex objects. Certainly they'd always 
thought of me that way. Now, in the two hours or so spent moving 
in, Elwyn had taught me more about men and myself that a lifetime 
of one night stands, brief affairs and a two year marriage. I was 
aware that I wasn't as attractive as I used to be. I'd always been 
happy about my slim, full figure but I was losing the battle to 
keep it that way. I suffered agony when I recently found a grey 
hair in the long rich dark hair of which I'd been so proud. In 
panic I'd cut it very short and now it looks awful. So there are a 
few lines on my face. Hell darling I'm past 30. What do you expect?

Elwyn had finished his coffee, was collecting his tools ready to 
go. "Thanks for all your help. Can I offer you dinner tonight as a 
thank you?"

"I'd like that," he said. "But it's too soon. You don't know that 
stove of yours yet."

He paused then added "It's such a nice idea though. Let me offer 
you a moving in supper. I'm in apartment 351. Seven this evening 
ok?"

He'd said "I," not "we." He was single and probably unattached.

His supper was superb. His hobby was cooking and he so seldom had 
anyone to cook for. We had several of his suppers over the next few 
weeks. I was diffident about presenting him with my humble burger 
and chips level of cooking but when he did come he complimented me 
on it.

After a month or so we'd spent a lot of time together, got on 
really well but he still hadn't come on to me. This had never 
happened to me before. He could have been gay but he didn't seem to 
be. You can generally tell when a gay guy is trying to act 
straight. Hell darling I've had all sorts. I should know.

So I couldn't figure Elwyn out. I was pretty sure that he liked me 
and I'd got to know him well enough to know that he was lonely. Was 
he afraid of a sexual harassment charge or something? He'd been in 
a bad marriage. Perhaps that was it. His ex was some kind of nut 
case the way he talked but he wouldn't go into detail.


Then one evening we were in his flat after one of his super meals 
and I was feeling mellow and confident. I kissed him lightly on his 
lips, a first in this relationship, and asked him outright why he 
was so slow.

"There is a reason. I knew this moment would come and I've been 
dreading it."

Needless to say, at that point he had my total undivided attention. 
I waited for him to go on, expecting to hear about a woman 
somewhere in the background. I felt envious of her. For a guy to be 
this faithful  after all this time their relationship had to be 
something special.

"What it is," he said looking nervous and it was the first time I'd 
ever noticed him anything but totally confident. He stopped.

"Go on." 

"I don't have any balls. I'm a eunuch." He'd said it and was 
waiting for my reaction. 

I was too astonished to do anything but look astonished.

"I don't get it." I told him when I could think again. "You're the 
most lovely masculine guy I've ever met."

That was probably the best thing I could have said. He did kiss me 
then.

Two months later we were married and that was two years ago. I'm 
pregnant by a.i.d. and Elwyn is as thrilled about it as I am.

It turned out that his first wife had manipulated him into being 
castrated. She'd had a sort of fixation about testicles being the 
root of men's evil ways, which I suppose is true but castration is 
not the answer. Then after he was fixed she changed her mind and 
dumped him. Elwyn has testosterone patches which easily make up for 
the lost organs, apart from fertility.

Actually it's kind of nice being able to control his testosterone 
level; almost as if you can unplug a man's balls whenever it suits 
you. For example he certainly doesn't need a sex drive while I'm 
pregnant. When we're in a group and I see Elwyn flashing his cute 
smile at some predatory chick I can smile to myself. She's no 
threat to me at all. Elwyn is a very decent, responsible person who 
is probably quite trustworthy, but it's so comforting to know that 
he can't get up to mischief, even if he tried. 

Perhaps his first wife was on to something after all. Hell darling, 
balls are the things a man can most easily do without. Mine doesn't 
have any and I love him that way.