You know something.The ideal Broke Straight Boys doesn't mean a damn thing. I don't care if they're broke - if they've got a car, a home, or a job, they're not broke. I've seen enough good acting in my life time to recognize bad acting and who cares if some of them can't pull off straight. And I surely can't define an eighteen year old as a boy. He's a young man. In fact a thirteen year old would be reluctant to call himself a boy - he's going to say he's a teenager. So what's my ideal Broke Straight Boys? I want someone I can walk down the street with and not look out of place. You know, a friend, a companion, the young man who hangs out with his buddies at the basketball court at the park, the one who always waves and calls "How ya' doin?," friendly, not handsome, but warm and happy and pleasant looking. I want someone I can talk about something besides video games and horror movies with. Even if it's just about human nature and the weather, I want to be able to carry on a conversation with my ideal that's not about bloody slaughter and violence and mayhem. I want to see him smile, a big grin, and hear him say good things about people, and make realistic plans for the future that are filled with hope and dreams and passion. I want someone who likes sex for the sharing of pleasure and enjoys a good long laugh as much as a good quiet pause. Other than that, nothing else matters. I wasn't looking at Broke Straight Boys when I wrote this. I was watching my husband sleep and thinking of what he must have been like fifty years ago. He wasn't broke, he wasn't straight, and he was seventeen - long legs, a shock of brown hair, amazing brown eyes, sturdy shoulders, solid hips, and realized what we all want. We all want the "perfect boy" for us to be the "perfect boy" with.