Halle..

Of Course I’m sitting down, with my fork stuck in a piece of exotic fish resting over rice and ironically a film comes on with the same name. A simple symbol to watch. I, of course being a simple man, don’t ignore the signs. The scene I first noticed was riveting.

Hugh Jackman walks in on a woman who is slowly peeling herself out of a form fitting brown dress. Inch by inch revealing to the viewer a little more than what his wife likely wants him to see. Being the average Joe, of course I stay tuned.

The woman’s hair? Immaculate.

Eyes? Sultry.

Lips? Luscious.

Body? Toned to perfection.

Voice? Lets describe it as 1-900 esque.

Hugh asks the same question any man would ask.

“Who are you?” he says as his eyes never leave her.

Hugh, I know you’re the big time Hollywood actor here, but let me help you out. Her mother calls her “ my baby”, Eric Benet probably has a different name for her, so I’ll summarize for them both. She is what we like to call around here, “the perfect woman.”

Hugh says, “I’ve had a pretty shitty day,  looks like it just got worse.”

You know something, Hugh. You’re right. Here’s what happened.

You’ve realized that your wife has become irrelevant.

Your sisters innocent beauty is now a vague memory.

Even your mothers inner beauty has been morphed and forgotten.

You’ve come to the realization that every woman on the planet has already come to.

She is flawless.

With the pre mentioned collection of attributes, how can anyone argue.

And an even more glaring question  is, how can any woman on the planet compete. The bar is set to Neptune- esque proportions.

Her golden brown skin crushed the hopes of all members of the feminine regime.

The curves on her hips make even Blackberry envious.

Her walk insinuates that she was runway material from birth.

Anyone associated with the XY chromosome pattern was , since conception, already a step behind.

So what can you do as a woman? You can cut your hair in a similar manner. Good luck with that.

You can hit the gym four hours a day, In hopes that your abs crunch better than a Nestles chocolate bar. Again, Good luck.

You can even pay $1000 a week to a voice coach, praying to put your vocals somewhere on the map between lust craving and sensual.

I’m starting to run out of good luck wishes.

You get the point.

Perfection is exactly that.

Perfection.

No duplicates.

No carbon copies.

Many have tried to test her.

Monroe.

Theron.

Lisa Raye.

Jolie.

Kardashian.

Gabrielle Union.

The problem with the greats is that deep down inside, you know you will always be only competition. When you look at yourself and aspire to be a legend, you’re reaching. Hoping for a miracle. Hoping to come close.

John Travolta walks in on the scene, with his hair gelled back in the villain role and sees them together. She standing there undressed and Hugh speaking in tongues. Jackman was obviously shell shocked so Travolta stepped in with an obvious statement.

“This looks friendly.”

Of course we see the unveiling of the million dollar smile from the million dollar woman when she says in that voice,

“I’m a friendly girl.”

Stop thinking about it.

You don’t come close.

Find me ONE woman that does.

Don’t worry, I’m patient.

Until then, I’ll have more of this Swordfish. I’m not quite full.