The Ecphorizer

Lord, save me from "sensitive" men
who spout feminism to achieve their own ends.
He'll say that he wants a "gal" interested in
world affairs, Kierkegaard and the starch in his shirts,
so that her wit and savvy will impress all his friends
while she serves them all coffee and homemade desserts.
 Half Betty Crocker, half Betty Friedan...
the perfect companion for the "sensitive" man.

Lord, save me from "romantic" types
in search of affection throughout the long night,
yet once it is found become bored and take flight.
He'll woo her with flowers and dinner and such
and as he is leaving say, "I'll be in touch.
Adios. Sayonara. So long. Thanks a bunch.
It's been real. You were great. Ciao.
Hey, let's have lunch!"
His lofty idealism's just so such hype.
You're alone a lot when you date "romantic" types.

Lord, save me from "passionate" guys;
from meaningful glances and deep, heartfelt sighs.
With soul-searching sadness he'll get lost in her eyes
till she almost believes the barrage of his lies.
When in his cold heart, passion easily dies
it often will burn anew between his thighs.
He can eat all the quiche from here to Lorraine,
cry at the movies, reveal inner pain,
but unless he can give more than tears,
you'd be wise to avoid like the plague, so-called "passionate" guys.

Lord, send me a down-to-earth soul
who isn't enslaved by traditional roles
and can see that I need to achieve certain goals.
He is ready for intimacy, yet at ease when alone
and will understand needs other than just his own.
He will want just a woman and not some ideal
of all that his parents held sacred and real
and he won't need how-to books to learn how to feel
but will recognize warmth from a friend.
Perhaps, my frustration will come to an end
if you will deliver me time and again
from pseudo-romantic, insipidly passionate and would-be sensitive men.