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A Few Good Men Self-indulgent stocking stuffers Christmas: mistletoe, eggnog and family friction. Cope with
family holiday madness in the Mothers area of Table Talk.
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HE'S HANDSOME, FAITHFUL, RICH BY LORI LEIBOVICH | Miles is different from the other musicians I've dated. He looks the part -- scraggly, longish hair, loose flannel shirts, decades-old jeans. And he acts the part -- he's on leave "indefinitely" from college. But unlike all the other music men that I've fallen for (the alcoholic but sexy-as-sin bassist, the reckless, noncommittal drummer, the obsessive but so-sweet saxophonist), Miles is stable, reliable and devoted. He always has time for me and for the relationship; we go out on Saturday nights, and not just to his gigs. Not once in our two-month relationship has he said, "I have to rehearse late tonight" or "I'm going on tour for a few weeks" or "I can't have dinner because I'm meeting the guys to talk about the future of the band." When we're apart, he calls. When he's wrong, he says so. I just got back from lunch and found a pink "While You Were Out" note on my chair: "Miles said he's sorry he missed you again. He'll see you tonight." He calls just to ask what time I'm going to be home. He sent me a card last week that said, "You're the One!" and after our last fight he sent flowers. He even writes songs with my name in them. I feel so tended to. My only problem with Miles -- and I concede it is a big one -- is that we don't have great sex. In fact, we don't have sex at all. It's not that we don't want to jump in the sack -- we do. It's more like we can't. Because my boyfriend is in a box. Miles, aka "Musical Miles," is one of eight "Boyfriends-In-A-Box," shrink-wrapped men with distinct interests and profiles but only one goal: utter and complete devotion to You. Each box is graced with a smiling photo of your new beau. Inside are a 5-by-7 and a wallet-size picture of your boyfriend; a stat sheet with his vitals; three "While You Were Out" message slips; one flower-sender's card; one greeting card and a 16-page owner's manual. But the best thing about Miles and the other Boyfriends-In-Boxes ("Cowboy Clint," "Corporate Craig," "Athletic Al") is that they all come with a warranty guaranteeing, among other things, that he will call when he says he will, respect your friends, understand your moods, notice all haircuts and new outfits, be willing to commit, cook, clean, do laundry, express his feelings, need you, want you and love you ... unless you don't want him to. It's that last clause I love -- it's not always easy or opportune or even very nice to tell your real partner to go the hell away. The Mother of Boyfriend-In-A-Box -- "All the evidence of a wonderful romance without the annoying man!" -- is Cathy Hamilton of Lawrence, Kan., a happily married mom of two. The buy-a-guy idea came to her one day while she was checking out online personal ads. "It occurred to me that a pre-packaged relationship with the perfect guy might be better and safer than hooking up with someone online," Hamilton said. Clearly she is on to something. Billed as the "perfect feel-good gift for a single woman or gay man," 70,000 Boyfriends-In-A-Box have been sold since February. My friend and co-worker Dawn is dating one of Miles' buddies, "Doctor Dave," and she is just as gushy about him as I am about Miles. "I feel like this is my first healthy relationship," Dawn cooed this morning. "Not only because he's a doctor, but because he's the perfect gentleman," Dawn sighed. But you don't have to be single to enjoy a Boyfriend-In-A-Box. Hamilton, who has been married for 17 years, says her husband doesn't mind that her Boyfriend, "Firefighter Frank," lives with them. "I have a tendency toward kitchen fires, so Frank comes in very handy," she said. And a married co-worker of mine hooked up with "Millionaire Max" a few weeks ago. Max had planned to whisk her off to France for some turkey pâté in Provence to celebrate Thanksgiving but, sadly, she got sick, as did her husband and two kids. It was Max who comforted her at her sickbed. "He sat on my night table the whole weekend," she said wistfully. "He just sat there quietly and never complained." Hamilton says that married women want -- and need -- boyfriends just as much as single women do. "I think if a woman has been married a long time and finds herself in the throes of temptation, whether at work or at the neighborhood holiday party, faking it with a faux lover might be the safest way to go," she says. And Hamilton can't resist doing a little matchmaking-in-a-box. She holds a special place in her heart for "Self Made Stan," a cross between Phil Donahue and Bob Barker: "He'd be nice for your kid's widowed piano teacher." Whatever their ages, interests and occupations, the Boyfriends have one thing in common: They are unfailingly loyal to their mates. A Boyfriend-In-A-Box is, as one of Hamilton's press releases asserts, "The ultimate promise keeper." Indeed, the Boyfriends made a virtual pilgrimage to Washington, D.C., recently to attend the Promise Keepers rally, where they grasped hands, swayed and wept openly while heaping praise on their girlfriends. "It is our responsibility -- no our privilege -- to 'stand in the gap' for those women struggling to answer the question: 'Are you seeing anyone?'" said Self-Made Stan in the press release. Doctor Dave added: "The worst thing we could possibly do is abandon the women who believe in us as men, as companions, as surrogate studs." But shouldn't studs be able to, well, use their pistols? "Some things are better than sex," said Dawn, rather defensively. "Like being respected." Aren't any women frustrated with the uh, aridity, of their boxed relationships? "I know it sounds hard to believe but sex has never come up," Hamilton said. "Unless I hear a bunch of complaints about this, I don't plan on putting any 'devices' in the box." Which made me think: Why are legions of women falling for these
imaginary, sexless men? Sure, the Boyfriends make great, gimmicky gifts and
yes, they stoke our fantasies of having cute, loyal and, according to their
vital statistics sheets, impossibly rich men in our lives. But my theory is
this: these fantasy heroes are flying off the shelves because unlike real
men, we can shove these guys in a drawer.
Mothers Who Think Extra: Self-indulgent stocking stuffers! |
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