How to create your perfect man.

Hey there. Here is an excerpt from a diary of mine from 2002. It is now included in the sequel to 'One way or Another.' My working title for this next book is ' A Wreck with Spares; the story of a single mother who loved anyone who'd have her.'  It's a bit wordy but I'm working on it.

I am often asked how I found true love after all those dashing rock-stars and here's the answer.....magic. Voodoo. I summoned him from nothing.....true. Here's how.......


‘Read it again,’ Gemma is laughing so hard that champagne is frothing out of her nostrils. She is clapping and rocking on the edge of her chair.
‘What’s so funny?’ I smirk.
‘That is the most hilarious thing ever,’ she says of my diary.
After four glasses of champagne I am reciting passages from my journal for her amusement.
‘Read me that passage about Bill the bike rider again.’
Oh, Bill the bike rider. He was young and cute with fantastically smooth thighs. Just passing through town on a bike trip around Australia. He’d pulled a hamstring and ended up in the surgery. Fortuitous.
‘Or the bit about that old fellow, Dorian.’
He is another man I’m juggling. He’s twenty-six years older than me, a producer of porn films and has some interesting ways of entertaining me.
‘Or that fellow who visits you from Sydney.’
He’s just a ship in the night who passes through on golf trips. An old friend with benefits.

I am feeling so very powerful and independent these days. I’m making good money, living in a lovely house, the boys are settled, I belong to a close-knit community and men are falling out of the sky for casual fun-times. I am driving my own life and it feels like a sleek sports car. I have energy to burn and have started taking drama classes for the local kids at the C.W.A Hall on Friday afternoons because the surgery is closed on Fridays. The kids are keeping me on my toes. I love their energy and feed off it. 

My friendship with Gemma has helped me to see how toxic some of my other girlie friendships have been. Gemma likes to hear my wanton tales but she is a girl with fairly high standards for herself. Gemma and I are connected by cords of absurd laughter and Harry likes playing with her girls. Harry and Lola start school after the holidays. My last little baby off to school! Both big boys are now at high-school. The kids are becoming so much easier to deal with as they mature into young men.
‘More journal, more journal, more journal!’ she chants.
I flick through to another bit and read.

‘You are such a man-hater!’ she shakes her head.
‘Are you not listening to me? I love men. I love them long time.’ I giggle. ‘I just don’t want to love them looong time. You know what I mean?’
‘What sort of guy would it take to make you fall head over heels? Seriously.’
I think about it hard. I try to steer clear of answering, but Gemma guides me back,
‘Come on. We’ll make a list. Like witches. We’ll create him.’
‘Like Frankenstein.’
We decide through our popping tipsiness to embrace the occult and voodoo up a perfect man for me. She grabs a bowl.
‘What’s that?’
‘A spittoon. We need to write all this down put it in the bowl, spit on it and then burn it.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘How do you know that?’
She explodes into great gusts of laughter.
‘You idiot. It’s ridiculous. I’m just making crazy shit up.’
‘Well that sounds like a good plan.’
‘You have to be very, very specific,’ she adds far too seriously.

Here is the list I come up with……..

My ideal man must -----
Have a great sense of humour.
Be impeccably honest
Be flawlessly faithful
Be tall (about six foot).
Have dark hair, preferably curly.
Be between thirty and forty.
Have an interesting car. (I’m not into expensive cars but interesting cars are good)
Have an interesting, creative job but not a professional clown..
Not like golf (too boring)
Love my kids (but not in a sexual way)
Have a huge….libido.
Have hair on chest (not too much and none on back)
Be musical but not a rockstar (over them now, bad news)
Not have a gambling problem.
Like a drink (within reason) but not heroin.
Have olive complexion or darker.
 Have been married before (just not living with his Mum). Men often learn from their mistakes!
Not be rich, just generous with his heart. (rich guys are arseholes)
Come from good family stock
Be an atheist or maybe a Buddhist which can be the same thing.
Not ever be violent.
Be highly intelligent.
Like my friends but never in a leery, creepy way.
‘How’s that?’ I ask Gemma.
She nods and looks at the piece of paper that I have scribbled on, folds it once, twice, three times and puts it in the bowl.
‘Now spit on it,’ she says.
She holds it toward me and I hack up a gob of spittle. We both begin to laugh. She ignites her lighter and goes toward the paper. I touch her arm, stopping her.
‘Shouldn’t we say something? Like an incantation?’
‘Yes. Of course. Shut your eyes.’
I do.
In a stupid low, oomie goomie voice, Gemma begins.
‘May the great goddess of …things…listen to us now. Poor Nikki needs you to create this man exactly how he is written. We honour you great goddess and ask this respectfully and in return Nikki will love and honour this man for the rest of her natural life.’
‘Wait,’ I open my eyes but the paper is already alight.
‘I didn’t agree to that…forever thing! I forgot to add that he mustn’t smell of cabbage!’
The paper is well and truly alight, dangerously so. Gemma grabs an oven mitten and flings the bowl into the sink.
‘What are you doing?’ Harry asks as the kids come in from outside.
‘Magic tricks,’ I laugh back at him.


A month later I met Zeus. Drove a chariot. Dark curly hair. Tall. and all the month we will have been together for ten years...and he only smells like cabbage briefly, in the mornings. If that's not magic, what is??

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