Thursday, January 30, 2014

My Type Part II

If I were a gay man, I would be into bears. For those of you with limited knowledge of the gay culture, a bear is a husky, bearded man with lots of body hair.

Since I'm a straight woman, I like the straight equivalent of that. A man who is ultra-masculine. I like deep voices, strong jawlines, bushy beards and, yes, chest hair. For years, I've been told that I'm too picky. And maybe I am, but, I don't feel like I've been closed minded about going out with different guys. In fact, it's been a pretty good lesson.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted black babies. They are the cutest. And I love dark brown eyes, and, let's be honest, if I don't marry someone with color in their skin, I'm going to give birth to albinos. So with the opportunity to go out with a black man arose, I jumped at the chance. That story is here:
I'm not saying that all black guys are going to try and catch a glimpse of a single boob, but, it made me realize that I don't have to marry a black guy. It's probably fine if I don't. And if that means, no black babies, then well, I guess it is what it is.

So, instead, I focused on going out with country guys. I like the idea of a country dude. He's hardworking, ripped and not from spending eight hours at the gym, but because he works hard. He's ultra-manly, and smart when it comes to cars, trucks, and just about anything else that needs fixing. But then I went out with a country boy, and I was disappointed by his lack of interest in things around the world, and in trying new things, and... I realized that it was possible that not all country guys are smart enough for me. (Again, not all of them.)

Can I make a confession? Over the last several years, I can't remember a single date that I've been on where I was actually excited about the date or the guy. I mean, I've been on a lot of blind dates. I can't remember the last appropriate guy I've had a crush on.

Appropriate, you ask? I'll explain.

I lusted over the same guy for three years. He wasn't a member of the Church, and was, in fact, quite scandalous. He made me blush. And he always smelled so good, and I was not above imagining the wicked things that could be done if I would just lower my standards even just a little slightly. Not only would he never consider dating me, but I shouldn't consider dating him. Ever. This seems true of a few guys that I've come across. I'm almost certain that if I were a different sort of girl - if I weren't living a promise that I made to keep the law of chastity - things with these guys would be very different. While I would love to do the Mormon equivalent of "hooking up", I know I can't because they would want to take it further. I would have to constantly play goalie, and they would end up frustrated. So for the most part, we just keep our distances.

The last several months, I have had a crush on my general contractor for a project I was in charge of for work. I loved everything about him. His sense of humor. The way he validated my decisions with the project. The fact that he called me "kiddo" or "sunshine" or "dear". I liked listening to his contractor Spanish, as he told his workers what to do. And I liked that he sometimes caught my eye just to roll his own at me as we listened to somebody not make a decision for something that we needed a decision. He would send me texts that say, "Come downstairs," and why is it that a simple command like that makes me fluttery? The only problem, of course, is that not only is he married, but he's the father of one of my co-workers. He's also a grandpa. But, how can I help myself when he texts me after the worst day of my life just to see if I am having a better one the next day? Or the fact that he played contractor Santa? I can't! He's so great. (I will put in as a side note that despite my great love for this man, it is not in anyway a lust or romantic sort of crush.)

In my post yesterday, I mentioned that nice didn't cut it for me. That I didn't like nice. But a dear friend texted me and said that it probably isn't nice that is the problem. The problem is that I want nice, interesting, funny, and smart. Which may sound like a lot - maybe I am picky! But I don't think it is too much to ask for. I enjoy incredible wit. The kind of wit that inspires bantering not unlike what you read in romance novels. Sure, that doesn't seem realistic, but, as I have experienced a good flirtation with a few witty men in my day, I know that it does exist, even if it is harder to find.

But, I still maintain that nice is a problem for me. The thing is, I think that I'm... that my sense of humor... I find myself to be stuck in this weird in-between of the kind of man that I'm looking for. I relish a man who can make me blush. It's no easy feat, either. I make myself blush all the time by simply saying or doing really dumb things. But to say or do something that catches me off guard, and causes heat to flood to my cheeks, not in humiliation, but in a pleasant sort of embarrassment, is one of the greatest things. The only problem is, there is a delicate balance. Some guys take things way too far or become way too gross that the blushes are more from revulsion than they are any sort of delighted  disconcerting emotions. I find that this weird in-between has me much too bawdy and racy for most Mormon guys; but I'm too sweet, innocent...pure for non-Mormon guys. So if I date Mormon dudes, I'm constantly bored; and if I date Non-Mormon dudes, then I'm constantly on the defensive. And either way, I am constantly offending or hurting someone.

So that's my type. If someone could find a ribald, masculine, intelligent, Mormon man please send him my way.

1 comment:

  1. Not unreasonable expectations at all. As someone who got married a little later in life, it's well worth the wait.


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