Totally My Type

Last weekend I was being chatted up by a boy (and yes, boy is appropriate here – so young!). Said boy seems to have a bit of a thing for me (but again, so young!) and he really is quite a sweet boy, so I figured, why not? Well, in his attempts to chat me up he asked me what my type was. Say whaaaa? Youngin’, how do you expect me to answer this? By now dear readers it should be no surprise that my mind immediately jumps to:tumblr_m9hm1jrSaX1qhbk9ho1_r6_500

but how can I really provide this visual as answer? And furthermore, how is a gal supposed to answer this question when it’s being asked by someone who really isn’t her type? Honestly, I give the youngin’ credit, it’s a pretty ballsy topic to broach with someone you fancy, but don’t know well, because there’s always that chance you will in no way be anything remotely close to that person’s “type”. (Personally, I stopped asking this question when The Ex told me on our first official date that he liked redheads. After that, I learned my lesson. Never ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answer to.) But, unlike The Ex, I decided to spare the youngin’s feelings and simply reply with a vague, “I guess I don’t really have one.”

FALSE.

I totally have a type.

Most of my friends will promptly tell you my type is “a Man”. Well duh, you might say. As a heterosexual woman, I would guess that your type is a man. No, not just a man. A capital M Man. I like the manly men. A little brutish, a tad domineering, a smidge rough around the edges. Maybe that is a little unfeminist to admit, but hey, who cares? I know it’s not everyone’s type, just mine! And I’m not saying I seek out cavemen who club and drag their women back to their caves. No, nothing that extreme. It’s just one of those things that’s hard to describe, but you know it when you see it (think a cross between Jax Teller on Sons of Anarchy and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice {or even Mark Darcy from Bridget Jones, for that matter}). Of course there’s also physical characteristics I would file under “Totally My Type” – tall, heavier build (seriously, please don’t be skinnier than me…), more rugged/manly; less metrosexual/groomed, slightly longer than average hair, BEARD (ultimate sign of said rugged, sexiness), etc., and there are of course non-physical items as well – intelligent, smart with money but not cheap, decisive, hard-working, handy, attentive but not obsessive, etc. After years of getting to know different types of people and dating we all tend to make these lists of what is our ideal type. I most definitely have mine. The funny thing is, I’ve just never dated my “type.” All my past relationships have been with completely different types of people; some well over a foot taller than me, one only two inches. Some well read and book smart, one only really street smart. Some with dark hair, one with blonde. Some with my love of music, one who’d never been to a concert. The only thing they all have in common is, when I really sit down and think about them, none of them really have that Man quality I can’t quite seem to put my finger on. Some much closer than others, but none of them really gave me the Man o’mans (my version of Carrie Bradshaw’s zsa zsa zsu’s).

In short, I guess what I told the youngin’ really is mostly true. I don’t really have a type. Sure, I’ve technically got an ideal man imagined that makes my heart go a’pitter-patter, but when it really gets down to it, those things on the “Totally My Type” list and my ideal man become less important as a real man and all his perfect and not-so-perfect traits become more important.

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