What this house needs is a little "man"

I think I have male attachment syndrome. It's a very real (by which case I mean imaginary) disease that plaques me everytime my husband leaves.

I have withdrawls..for DH, yes, but also for men in general. I find myself lingering around my male neighbor as he gets the mail waiting for an assasin to jump out from behind the garbage can and grab me...at which point my neighbor (being a MAN and all) would OBVIOUSLY whip out his M1911, flex his muscles, and kick some assassin ass...like my own personal Rambo. Then he'll brush the sweat from his brow and jump onto his chopper and zoom off into the desert, like a true vigilante...maybe carving a giant "Z" on the ground with his samurai sword as he rides into the sunset (I wish).

I find myself lying awake at night wishing there was a muscley arm around me (even a detached limb would suffice. In fact, a detached limb would give it that extra dose of manliness...like it's from a SAW movie!)

Basically, my life is too much chick and not enough dude. I get up at whatever time I want and roll around my satin sheets (now that I no longer have to worry about man stains, I can finally use the good sheets lol). Then I waltz in to breakfast and dine on English muffins and tea. I spend the day watching Desperate Housewives and America's Next Top Model before having a light dinner of smoked salmon and arugala and hunkering down with a blanket to watch Grey's Anatomy and Vampire Diaries. Then I may paint my nails, color my hair, take a bubble bath, and listen to my girly ipod music before dozing off to sleep nestled in between 2 spoiled cats.

The only male presence around me is my cat, Skaggs, who might as well be an effeminate homosexual for all the manliness he bring to the house (think kurt, from Glee). I need more sex jokes, gun talk, and beer obsessions. So I look to the men around me.

The mormons missionaries (19 year old, clean-shaven, pre-pubescent-looking guys that they are) at least SOUND like dudes, even if all they ever talk about is their testimony. 

My mechanic, having a certain affinity towards text messaging and cars, provides me with my daily dose of badassery. I frequently text him to ask about our truck, truck parts, truck motors, truck sounds, motorcycles and cars. I will make up mechanical issues just to hear someone say the word "carburator".

Beer is where it gets a little more complicated. Being underage myself, I can't very well roam the liquor aisles debating between Budweiser American Ale and Dos Equis. Ah, but our ex-roommate has that covered. I frequently call him and pester him to regale me with the stories of his weekends (almost all of which involve beer, cops, and underpants...sometimes all at the same time). He also provides me with my weekly dose of sex jokes.

So now I have man voices, man talk, and typical man stupidity covered.

Yet I still find myself becoming obsessively attached to dudes. And I don't mean attached in a sexual way (not at all). I mean attached in the "wait you're a dude! Come be a dude in my vicinity and balance out this over abundance of femininity" kind of way.

I wish I could have a male ghost haunt my house. He'll walk around in his boxers leaving all the lights on, eating all the food in the fridge, and hogging the remote. Then at night he'll sneak up and steal the covers, fart, and snore. And then maybe...in the evenings...he will whine about dinner and I will cook something delicious and wach my little man-ghost inhale it without chewing before declaring it "fine" and handing me his dish.

....On the other hand, maybe I don't need any more "man".