My dog still likes fire hydrants. Sticks that aren't chewed. Tennis Balls for him to swallow. Soft things to lay on. Girls to rub his head. Cuddlers. FOOOOOOOOOD. He wants to be your friend. For serious, chump.
I on the other hand have much more exacting standards. I want to meet:
people who use turn signals. dogs. joke tellers. cats that neither hide in the other room or try to sit on my face but exist happily in that middle-ground of not too much, but certainly not too little that you forget you even have a cat except when you need to change the litter box because it smells bad which is sort of good because you half expected that your cat was dead somewhere. kurt vonnegut. tom robbins' typewriter. people who dislike raccoons and all that they stand for. gun owners. jack bauer (check!). violin players named andrew. people that have names for their nervous ticks. good curry. bad strip-clubs. thirsty individuals. people that can stay up all night talking or not talking. those that get up early or sleep in late but have a good reason for either. the liberated. MF DOOM. whistlers. anyone who has ever started a fight. people that laugh when they hear things like "kerouac was overrated" or "bukowski was underrated." anyone late for dinner because they got lost. people who care or libertarians. people that only talk to me when they need something but waste no time making small talk instead favoring just getting right to what they need. bullfighters. passion. passion. people who can imagine themselves going out for pizza and ending up in chicago. people who fall asleep to the idea of the sound of rain and wakeup to the feel of sunshine. people who know that life is too short for drama, unhappiness, uneasiness, greed, or guilt.
I say let's hang it all out there and when it comes in we'll clutch it to our breasts with nary an ounce of hesitation. Like all optimistic people: we think it will be worth the wait.