Here is the thing about dream girls: they don’t usually (necessarily) live up to a “man’s” criteria for ideal attractiveness. More often than not, in fact, the dream girl ends up simply being a woman who will put up with his shit and share an above average amount of interests with him (or at least, she’ll pretend to–for a time).
But then, when she proves too much to seem “made for him,” the “man” in question will grow bored. Because, ultimately, “men” seek excitement in the form of the unknown, a constant shift in what’s to be expected–it helps convince them that mortality isn’t imminent (what’s more distracting than variety, inconstancy?), and that a woman can never know him so intimately so as to be able to use it against him when it suits her. But, ultimately, to throw over a woman willing to not only withstand your foibles, but even find them endearing is to say: “I not only have no dick, I also have no conscience.”