This is what goes on in my brain

Y’know, I’ve been thinking about the priorities I’ve set in my pursuit of a suitable Mrs.

Maybe it has been too superficial of me to hold out hope that I’ll wind up with a supermodel who can cook and clean. Hey, a dude can hope, right?

Okay… hold up, hold up… before you get on my case, ladies, plenty of you out there are seeking some sort of magical Prince Charming to come swoop you up on a white horse or some garbage along those lines.

We’ve all been fed nonsense!

That’s why I’m switching up the game.

I’m going for sheer practicality.

One of my previous hopes/rules has been not to pursue women taller than me. The problem with that is I’m only 5′ 8″. Yeah, sucks for me.

(I believe my height may play a minor role in why I’m still out there seeking a Mrs. Part of girls’ superficialness I’ve noticed is in wanting super-tall dudes. Heck, there plenty of girls out there who are like 5′ 3″ or shorter and are holding out for dudes who are 6′ 1″ or taller. C’mon now. Get real.)

Now in my new pursuit of practicality, I’m thinkin’ ladies need to be somewhere around the 5′ 7″ to 5′ 10″ range (I will go taller than me, but I had to put a cap on it… I can’t look like a kid next to my woman; that’s just weird).

Also — and this is a must — the woman must come from an athletic background, or have been an athlete herself.

Here’s the deal, potential Mrses: our children will grow up to be professional athletes. That’s the whole point of this. Cha-ching! Early retirement for the both of us!

See, I may not be so tall, but there is tallness in my family. My dad’s 6′ 2″, but everyone on my mom’s side of the family has been kinda short. The men haven’t grown much taller than 5′ 7″/5′ 8″.

Additionally, I’ve always been a pretty quick runner. And that comes from both sides of the family — my dad was a fast runner back in the day and so were my mom’s brothers. I’m also pretty coordinated, have pretty good physical dexterity, and have a good sense of physical/spatial awareness. And I can do the robot.

So the way I figure it, I just need to get some more tallness and extra natural athleticism in there and — boom! — somewhere around 18 to 22 years from now (depending on the sport our child excels in) we’ll be able to chill.

Oh, and maybe we can love each other, too. I mean, that’d probably be good, right?