Unlike some of the shallow, paleolithic men out there, I prefer a natural woman without makeup. Actual lashes instead of fake Muppet ones. Real skin instead of caked-on purple-glitter mush. Shredded cuticles and uneven nails chewed up from anxiety instead of pointy acrylics.
Women should adhere to my sophisticated, progressive opinion. I don’t want to be deceived by concealer and contour. I want an authentic woman with dark bags under her eyes from not having slept for days and blemishes dotting her cheeks from pimples past. There’s no need to spend hundreds of dollars on retinol to prevent aging. I love crow’s feet. I want to grab fistfuls of white hair while I kiss turkey-like jowls. I know you think since all my exes are fifteen years younger than me, I don’t mean that, but that’s just a coincidence. I would totally date someone older than me, like Naomi Campbell or Julia Louis Dreyfus.