With Valentine's Day looming around the corner, I realize I'm one of those picky guys when it comes to women. I have a ridiculous set of standards. It's like I'm  a casting-director who conducts  constant open-auditions for the ideal woman. Seemingly benign nuances can send me sprinting for the exit.  Since society dictates that we can only have one Lone Ranger to our Tonto, the stakes are especially high-and I'm looking for as close to my version of perfection as humanly possible. 

 To give you an idea of exactly how picky I can be, consider five seemingly wonderful women I've been forced-for one random reason or another-to drop like a hot brick:

PICKY CANDIDATE #1-THE FRAYED NERVES BREAK-UP
One woman I dated was addicted to cutesy catch-phrases. At first I was mildly charmed-I thought she was being ironic.  I pictured us at fancy cocktail parties, huddled in the corner making pithy asides to each other: "The only thing worse than being talked about, is not being talked about." 
  Then came the day, about two weeks into the relationship that her near incessant use of those tired expressions began to grate on my nerves. Only then did I realize she wasn't being ironic, but idiotic. Statements such as "I'm high maintenance" or "Tomorrow is `Girl's Night Out'" that threw me over the edge. I firmly believed the longer we dated, the more she would rely on these trod expressions. "Don't go there," she'd say Why not? I'd ask "I'm having a bad hair day." No it looks fine. "Watcha' Talkin' `Bout Willis!"  Please Stop that! "Don't worry, be happy!"  There would be no respite, until, of course, she had a "Girl's Night Out."  And so I broke up.

PICKY CANDIDATE #2-IN THE NAME OF PRIDE BREAK-UP
She was a beautiful, statuesque woman, The kind that some would call a goddess.  I'm not one with an inferiority complex. Being 6 foot, I'm considered average-tall. So,  I sojourned in dating a really tall woman. I'm talking basketball center-size. I felt sort of like James Bond, in that I had lover who was also my bodyguard. It brought the term "going down on" a whole new meaning when the act is like descending a long, long ladder. More to love! My male ego began to take a blow after three weeks of strutting around town. I  felt like a combination of little brother and crazy circus-team. Coming down a bit closer to earth, I decided to move on.
  

PICKY CANDIDATE #3-THE SELF-PRESERVATION PROTECTION BREAK-UP
A friend introduced me to this woman who just  moved to town. Besides being cute, it turned out we both did art-work, liked kickboxing and enjoyed J.D. Salinger. Can you imagine having more in common! One thing we didn't have in common though, was a level of devotion early on in the relationship. I have a rather uncanny ability to detect a possible stalker.  And If stalking isn't something to be picky about, I don't know what is. The evening after our first date, she not only called, but I also got an email.  Then in the following five days of our relationship, she called me seven more times and chased them with five more emails. That kind of two-pronged attack scares this animal away. But what  really sent me running was the 9:00am Saturday morning phone call asking if we were still on for Sunday night.  On Sunday night, we had a little break-up talk, I believe just in time to prevent her from building a hidden alter in my honor.


PICKY CANDIDATE #4- THE PARANOID ABOUT GENETICS BREAK UP
I met this lovely German frauling at a club. Immediately, I was charmed by her "chi-chi" European ways.  I imagined us running together through the Alps, raising kinder and wearing liederhosen.  Everything was going along fine, until I began to think that she had a bone protruding from the back of her head.
   I'm not talking about something like a unicorn's horn, but a bone I thought I felt on more than one occasion: The first time we kissed, it was very dark-her head was turned.  I wasn't sure whether I saw the top of her ear coming through her hair or the afore bone. Like those who witness UFOs, I blamed it on my alcohol intake and left it at that. Days later, visiting a park, I placed my hand on the back of her head for a brief moment and felt it: the bone! Either that, or it was the bow of her sunglasses. But it didn't matter, the damage was done. We never saw each other again.


PICKY CANDIDATE #5-BREAK-UP DUE TO AN UNCANNY RESEMBLANCE TO A FRIEND
I met this woman at a party one night and we hit it off immediately. I felt like we were old friends, or that we have met some place before. Shortly thereafter, my friend Carl came over and said, "So I see you met my sister?"  Only then did I recognize a vague resemblance. That resemblance became a lot less vague immediately following our first romantic encounter.I felt like I was in bed with my friend Carl! By no means could I lay there and cuddle with him. I made an excuse and left her house in a shamed rush, never to see her again. The feeling didn't disappear though; For the following three months, everytime I saw the real, genuine Carl, I felt like we'd just had sex.
 

Am I being ridiculous? Am I too picky? Of course!  Maybe I'm being overly selective to avoid being dumped by the women I date. One time I thought I met the most perfect woman I almost went completely mad. I was so ecstatic to date her, that early on I proclaimed "You're the one!" I was so tempted to do all the things that in the past have sent me running: shower her with cutsey sayings, call her seven times a day, let her feel the back of my head. Shortly after I was dumped!