"I want your ugly."

I have this reoccurring fantasy.

Ok, fantasy is not the right word. It's not kinky. Don't get excited. Or get excited, do what you must. But more like a daydream? Daydream. Where all of the guys I have dated and/or slept with are gathered in one room on a sound stage that resembles the set of The Dating Game. They are all sitting on cheap plastic stools (I did not spring for couches, I guess?) wondering what they are all doing here. They get to talking and realize their shared connection: me. How long would this take? Hours? Days? Would I ever come up in conversation? This is no longer a talk show, it is more like a Twilight Zone episode. Like that one where everyone is inexplicably stuck in a white room with high walls and can't get out. Or that Bunuel movie about a dinner party where the guests suddenly realize they can't leave and start eating each other? I haven't really fleshed out the details. My daydreams are not big on exposition.

Does this make me self-absorbed? Probably. Has everyone thought about this scenario at least once? I'm willing to bet most definitely.

I always wonder what they would say about me. Would my high school boyfriend remember our first kiss that summer afternoon in my driveway? Our last kiss? Would they remember our ugliest fights and our most passionate moments? Did I make any lasting impact on them? Do any of them miss me or hate me? Why did all of these relationships end, again? And, most importantly, have I left them alone on that sound stage for too long without food, and are they now trying to eat each other?

My mom told me yesterday that the secret to a happy marriage is to marry an ugly person. She didn't elaborate much, but I think she meant that physical attraction and passions inevitably fade, but at the end of the day, when all the pretenses drop away, and you are left with all of the ugly, your faded alma mater t-shirt and your mouth full of Crest whitestrips, that they still want to be there. That they stick around, for whatever reason.

I've never gotten to the point in a relationship where I am comfortable being naked. I don't mean physically naked. I'm pretty satisfied with the situation I've got going on right now. I moisturize and eat fruit and sometimes try those pilates moves from Self magazine. But naked as in completely myself. Like, ugly me. Glasses-wearing, unflattering-lighting me. I got pretty close in my most recent relationship, but I was always a little conscious of that other presence. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it pushes me to be better - to be the best version of me at all times. But is it really better? Aren't I just as lovable with a big t-shirt and dots of zit cream as I am with a push-up bra and skinny jeans? Maybe there is a happy medium I can get to. But in the end, is it my heart and compassion and sense of humor that really matter? I'd like to hope so.

Lady Gaga once said, "I want your ugly. I want your disease. I want your everything as long as it's free. I want your love." I think she was right - to truly love someone is to love even their ugliest qualities, maybe even especially those qualities. But she also once wore a dress made of raw meat and said, "Let's have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick." So, there's that.

That being said, I don't really agree with my mom. I want to think that I will find someone I am attracted to in every way. Don't get me wrong; he doesn't have to be Alexander Skarsgard or anything. In fact, I'm not too comfortable dating a guy who is prettier than me. But I want to find someone who makes my heart skip a little when he smiles at me and shiver when he kisses my neck, someone who knows how to cook one great dish, who will drop whatever he's doing to pick me up at the airport, who's witty as hell, with excellent taste in music and movies, an endless passion for life, and a huge, huge heart that he isn't afraid to share with me. And maybe he will come with a receding hairline or really hairy feet, but I will love him for it and he will love my waffle addiction and the bump in my nose, and it won't matter because he will be kind and want to stay in bed with me for hours on a Saturday morning.

But for the record, if you're reading this, Alexander Skarsgard - I would never turn you down. Call me.