Sophie Kinsella's perfect man for the high-powered city girl moving to the countryside in The Undomestic Goddess was a man who had trained to be a gardener plus has a family business--he owns the local pubs.
Then the perfect man in Jane Green's Bookends is (is cos I'm reading the book just now) an artist who grew up on a farm and so paints and grows his own tomatoes and works as a real estate agent to make enough money to retire by the age of 40 and paint full time. Sigh sigh.
These things only happen in books for sure. Or maybe everything happens in books. After all, Emily Barr painted the perfect picture of a bastard. Matt may consider himself an accidental bastard simply because he thought he had no choice but to carry on a double life since (READER ALERT, DON'T READ FURTHER IF YOU INTEND READING 'PLAN B' BY BARR) both his girlfriend and his wife become pregnant at the same time. But methinks even to be an accidental bastard you have to be a bastard at some level, natural or otherwise.
Anyway, bastards or perfect men (ha!) when you are down in the dumps, feel-good chicklit rules.