In A Town Car With Gabrielle Union

By Colleen Oakley

It's been an ongoing debate with my girlfriends," says Gabrielle Union, glancing out the tinted car window at a tourist taking a picture of a New York City hot-dog stand. She turns to me. "We say we want a nice guy that treats us well, and then someone says, 'So you'll date a plumber?' Well, no, because that's not my dream guy. We all have to let go of the Prince Charming complex and realize he doesn't necessarily exist in the package we assume he'll come in."

When Union first opened the car door and slid in beside me, I was almost intimidated by the smooth, tawny skin, the Pilates-toned arms accentuated by a sleeveless bright-yellow shirt (who can pull off bright yellow?), the wide, winning smile. As soon as she shut the door, her BlackBerry started ringing. "Ugh," she said, glancing at the screen. "Boys are so much drama." Then she laughed warmly, and I realized-she's just one of the girls.

Speaking of Prince Charming, I say, was that who called her BlackBerry? "No," she laughs. "I date, but the person I date most is myself, unfortunately." Union admits it can be difficult to find quality men in L.A. "In our town, hot guys who know they're hot are a dime a dozen," she says. And don't get her started on all of those guys out there living in a state of prolonged adolescence. "I don't understand men that find that much time for PlayStation," she says. "If you have bad credit but a great Madden score, clearly there are some priority issues."