Here is what my dream soul mate would sound like,
He may or may not be tall, dark and handsome;
While handling Life’s harsh slings and arrows,
I merely expect the young prune to be agile and lissome.
A blighter like Gussie Fink Nottle would surely not do,
A newt fancier and a teetotaler is bound to leave me cold;
A chappie like Freddie Threepwood would also put me off,
Someone like Spode I would stoutly detest, truth be told.
A lack of interest on my part in flowers, pumpkins and sows,
Rules out any dalliance with the ninth Earl of Emsworth;
A rugged and handsome Esmond Haddock may make the cut,
But his domineering aunts would vitiate matrimonial mirth.
Having a whack at any bloke’s millions is not my idea of fun,
An abundance of the milk of human kindness would do;
His frequent visits to an all-men’s club would be fine,
Enabling the embers of romance to act longer like a glue.
I would not expect him to open doors for me,
Nor hold any chair I may decide to use;
Such notions of chivalry are already outdated,
I can open jam cans myself and even mend a fuse.
He should pay heed to the needs of our times,
Believe in meaningful notions of chivalry instead;
Be a loving, loyal and devoted soul mate,
Helping with such household chores as making a bed.
Like Bingo Little, baby sitting should be his forte,
Not sulking when I invite over a friend of mine;
Ensuring that never do I miss my afternoon cup of tea,
Cosying up to me near the fireplace over a glass of wine.
As to tackling life’s myriad problems and challenges,
May he be like Jeeves, armed with superior intelligence;
Handling visiting aunts and distant cousins with aplomb,
Displaying a feudal spirit, resolving issues with elegance.
Let him be a dasher along the lines of someone like Psmith,
Handling life with perseverance, alacrity and grace;
Spreading love while riding the pale parabolas of joy,
Neutralizing mischief mongers without losing his own face.
Someone like Ashe Marson could also qualify,
Dishing out whodunits lapped up by the masses;
Open to adventurous escapades involving scarabs,
Handling his bosses well, conducting fitness classes.
Hitching my lot to someone like Galahad could be considered,
His gallantry is legendary, so is his wit and charm;
Oh, life would be real fun being with a person like him,
Things would be easier while I hold on to his arm.
I would not even mind a good pal like Bertie as a soul mate,
Whose heart would forever remain coated with gold;
Wrapping him around my dainty fingers would be easy,
Nice to have someone around whose intellect I could mould.
To have shades of all these coves in a single chap
Would be well-nigh difficult, truly an overwhelming task;
May be someone amongst you would refer a suitable blighter,
So I don’t have to walk down the aisle with a smiling mask.
Let the chappie at least be a true fan of P G Wodehouse,
So the progeny is assured of a great sense of humour;
Basking in the sunlit brilliance of the Master’s works,
Going through life with its chins up, wearing a blissful armour.
(Notes:
- A crisper version of this composition appears in ‘Wooster Sauce’, The Quarterly Journal of the P G Wodehouse Society (UK), in Issue Number 89, March 2019.
- This post is inspired by
https://honoriaplum.wordpress.com/2013/06/29/wodehouse-desirable-men - Related posts: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/11/05/a-plummy-wish-for-a-bride-to-be, https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/the-need-to-look-for-plummy-soul-mates
- Illustration courtesy www)
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