As a single twenty-something PR lady in a ski town, I have to say that I now agree that the old saying that “the odds are good but the goods are odd” is completely on target. No drive, no passion for anything in life, no desire to see and do and spontaneously explore. Or at least the ones I attract lack all that. Aces.
Well in true PR fashion, I have realized that I was looking for love in all the wrong places. For a girl whose business lies within the pages of magazines, not only for client coverage, but also as a freelance writer, I should probably be looking for love in print as well. Here’s why this is a great shortcut for ladies such as myself. First, I know they are interesting or they wouldn’t be in a magazine. Second, the bio is already there, so I have the background info. Thirdly, major publications manage enough due diligence to not exclude juicy red flag facts like prison record, rehab histories, and ex-wives. If they have skeletons, they will make their way into print.
Finally, based on the magazine, I can narrow down the options based on “my type”. The Playgirl man so not so my style, the Men’s Vogue guy although dapper I’m sure, might be a little too smart for me, the Esquire man always has a great sense of humor, and the Outside guy I know shares my hobbies.
I’ve flipped past many a picture of Andy Irons (travels too much), Tony Hawk (great but married with like four offspring), Lance Armstrong (too high-profile), and Jon Olsson (would dump me for a hotter Swiss blonde), and all too often am less than impressed.
So after about 4 minutes of research, I have found the perfect man for me. He is in his early thirties, has a great family, he uses his time and resources for good not evil, he’s attractive, outdoorsy and has a steadfast entrepreneurial spirit. Quite a catch I must say.
The winner… Fletcher Chouinard. This month’s Outside mag profiles the prodigal Patagonia son in his element, the surf-shaping shop. Any woman knows that a man who crafts something from scratch is sexy from the start. Secondly, Outside notes that Fletcher has a “curmudgeonly reticence.” Which in my narrow understanding of those words, brings to mind images of angry-looking garden gnomes, but in short means, that he masks his true feelings about the absurdity of the world. I’m ok with that.
The signs are all there. We have so much in common. He surfs; I’ve read West of Jesus. He makes organic clothing; I bought organic coffee this morning. He claims to lack financial savvy; I broke the bank on my new mountain bike and PBRs. He spends much of his time testing boards in California breaks; I spend much of my time testing inner tubes on the local Jackson Hole rivers. And let’s be honest with ourselves, “Sarah Chouinard” rolls off the tongue like a chocolate croissant.
So Fletch, is it ok if I call you Fletch? Gimme a call, I’m a horrible surfer, but if you’ve got the patience, I’ve got the time.
Don’t sell yourself short. Although, I think you have set yourself a solid, attainable goal with Mr. Chouinard I think you are missing a periodical that might produce a high yield for you. I recommend the Economist. There are some sleeper-cell hotties in there. I think you would mop up in their world.
Just think about it. I have a bunch of friends at the office who are big Economist readers and we all love your blog. Not in a creepy way.