How Do I Want Him?

Here Miss Nur Salman brings us the second part of her delightful reportage, in which she polls the fair sex...
What are the qualifications that must be found in the man of their dreams?!..

They said — and would that they had kept silent — that whoever puts this question to members of the fair sex is like one trying to catch a fistful of wind... For woman's imagination is fertile and many-colored to a far degree, and her thoughts turn with the turning of the pages of her days.. As for her ideal man, he resembles, more or less, the hero of the week's film — and how many those heroes are... A droll piece of advice, this... needing, truth to tell, no comment... But women's eyes today have shifted from the cinema screen to the walls of the streets, where the candidates' "retouched" pictures have been posted, their faces wearing smiles of every kind and riddle... Some of the women extol the boldness of Abdullah al-Hajj and the frankness of Jamil Makkawi; some praise the personality of Ghassan Tueni; and some, again, admire Ibrahim Haidar, on the principle that men are not measured by their length and breadth.

My arduous task was not confined to searching out woman — she is to be found, praise God, everywhere — but I went on to choose the frank ones among them, and frankness is dangerous in these days of ours. As for him who carries its banner and preaches it, he is a poor simpleton crushed under the wheels of a society that has come to believe in the "Machiavellian" school.

Miss Ni'ma Houri — My feet led me to one of the laboratories of the American University, and there, among the multitudinous bottles, the assorted beakers, and the anesthetic odors, I stood like "Alice in Wonderland," searching for a human being to return my greeting...

And behold, I glimpsed from afar Miss Ni'ma Houri in her white — I will not say spotless — coat... preparing her chemical dish without salt or allspice.. The question of The Woman's Voice came as a disturbing surprise, a discordant note in the chorus of sounds and smells she was accustomed to in the atmosphere of the laboratory; but she proceeded to describe her ideal man with the utmost scientific precision.. He is intelligent, tactful, cultivated, and pleasant; he proves his worth at home and abroad and commands the respect of all.

Miss Amal Ashkar

On one of the athletic fields I met by chance Miss Amal Ashkar, training in preparation for a basketball match — not for the election season, in which every voter may need impregnable muscles to protect him from the evil of punches...

I put the question to her from a good distance, for fear of her well-practiced punches... Miss Ashkar began to recite to me "superman" specifications; listening to them, I fancied myself before an Olympian god uniting in his hand the strength of Apollo, the wisdom of Minerva, and the might of Jupiter.

Then she said: We must sow the seeds of perfection in ourselves, however corrupt their soil and however exhausted its fertility... It is time for us to come out of our defeatist isolation, to free ourselves of our destructive mentality, and to march forward toward the summit of the highest ideals — and whoever keeps to the road arrives...

Who among us has not heard of Miss Joumana Baydoun, who came first among all the students of Lebanon and represented her country at the study-forum conference held annually by the "New York Herald Tribune"... It seems that Miss Baydoun grew used to such questions in the United States, where she demonstrated to the children of Uncle Sam that she does not eat grass, does not live in camel's-hair tents, and does not cover her face with a curtain of "nylon"... She began to dictate her views to me, and I caught in them the scent of the West... In her imagination he is wise, sensible, of strong personality, agreeable in company, and widely read; he does not melt away in the current of emotion, nor does he let himself be bound by trifles...

In the alumni club of the American University — the meeting place of the upper class of Beirut families, and particularly of Ras Beirut families — Miss Layla Kourani sat on one of the soft, comfortable seats, leafing through a magazine with great attention, in hopes of finding in its pages a beautiful style suited to a dress for the coming season. The question of The Woman's Voice was in the nature of a sudden problem that clouded the serenity of her thinking; but she bowed to the inescapable fact, and began to depict, in a language rather like a cocktail of Arabic and English words, the ideal man in her eyes... He is cultivated, of strong personality.. of good character, ambitious within reasonable limits, well-mannered, upright in all his dealings, his conduct, and his opinions. And Miss Layla, it appears, is a realist... She mocks Nietzsche and his "superman" theory, and holds that a man, whatever degree of greatness and ideality he attains, is not free of weak points, various and ramified, which prove that he is a human being and not a demigod; and man, by his nature, though he aim at perfection and aspire to it, can never reach it or pass beyond his limit.

The woman's voice does not rise only from sumptuous salons and refined circles; the great mass of our women are of the common people, living in a milieu far from our milieu and an atmosphere foreign to our atmosphere — and I do not know which of us is the happier??..

I greeted her with a smile as she stood erect at the door of her little shop, watching the passersby — and in the streets there are sights upon sights... Mariam proceeded to assure me that she does not meddle in politics and does not care who will win the battle; what matters to her is to sell what she has of squash and potatoes... In vain I tried to explain to her the true nature of my errand... but then I remembered that woman's obstinacy is a blind folly... sometimes, of course.

The show windows of the ABC stores drew me in, and I entered that wondrous emporium; and there Rose, one of the charming salesgirls, began to describe to me her ideal man — the most amazing Don Juan I ever heard of. He has the beauty of Tyrone Power, the wit of Gene Kelly, the height of Stewart Granger, and the elegance of Clark Gable.. I was dazzled by this Hollywood cocktail, as if I were not yet accustomed to the marvels of the twentieth century...

In the market of flowers and roses, one of the gentle flower-sellers began to enumerate for me the qualities she prefers in a man; it seems she drew some of them from the shapes and colors of the flowers that hemmed her in on every side — purity, beauty, and vitality — and she did not forget to remark to me that man's roughness is like the thorns of roses...

The journey's end was a veiled woman standing, with visible reserve and modesty, on one of the sidewalks. She answered me in utter astonishment: Mercy on me!... What are you asking me... what molds are you manufacturing for men? Spare me their mention, I beg you... But I have one word for you... my vote is for Rashid Bey, God bless you...

Great indeed is their cunning....