TYPES
My friend, Christy, is going on a "first" date tonight. In fact, frrom what I can tell by looking at my clock, she's been out, hopefully having a good time, for about 28 minutes. However, the night is still young ...
After school, I asked her if she was excited about the date. I mean, the way this guy has been described, he sounds just FABULOUS! My question launched us into a mini-conversation ... an extension, really, of an on-going conversation, that we've had in the past.
Now, before I start into the meat of the conversation and my rumminations over the whole thing, I feel compelled to warn my readership ... so WARNING .... WARNING .... WARNING .... this blog entry is, in no way, meant to be a whiny, diatribe of pathetic desparation. I think sometimes, when I do decide to travel down the dating trail via my blog, I am often misunderstood as a snatch-and-grab kind of woman, pining away for anything in khakis and Florsheims (heaven help me! Florsheims????). Nothing could be further from the truth. So, if your inclination is to reply to me and warn me of my need to not be so whiny, don't bother. Enough said ... on with the blog!
Christy and I spent the next few minutes talking about what the dating scene looks like in general, and what it looks like, specifically, in Frankfort, and we talked about the nervousness of the "first date" experience, and our conversation ebbed and flowed over the same terrain most healthy, single women travel. I told her I felt slightly bummed that I've got no one that interests me, and no one suggesting interesting people for me, and how I secretly wished I could just go out with set-ups and not feel all the apprehensions that I feel when someone suggests a set-up to begin with. I told her (at least I think I did) that I envied her free-spirit that way. I shared with her that I know I don't feel I'm what would be the ideal date, what with the extra saddle bags on each thigh, and a safety tire around my middle, but that I'm working on it, and hopefully, those things won't always be part of me.
"I just wished people would suggest my type to me rather than the ones they do suggest. I mean, last weekend, everyone kept asking me if I would be interested in Ray* [name has been changed to protect the innocent], and honestly, Christy. Can you see me with him?"
She smiled and shook her head no.
"See. This is what I'm saying! I mean, he's got to be at least 5 years younger than me, and in this stage of the game, I'm just not into babysitting home-boy, you know what I mean?"
She nodded her head yes.
On my way home from work, as the traffic weaved in and out around me, I found myself rolling over the question everyone seems to always ask me: "What is your type?"
And I contemplated my typical answer: "I dunno."
But, see, I think that's wrong. I think I know exactly what my type is, and I've just never been able to clearly articulate it to people. Why? I dunno ...
I do know what my type is not:
**It is not the good ole' boy with the saggy britches and the incesscent need to sit reclined in their car, one wrist slung over their steering wheel! PAAAAHLEEEEZE!
**It is not the guy that tries to play off what a good, decent, salt of the earth kind of guy he is, all the while, he's got girls lining up to hang on his every word. I don't want Eddie Haskins (a little LEAVE IT TO BEAVER reference for all you TVLAND fanatics out there).
**It is not the boy that can't make a decision or a commitment on his own without some sort of hand-holding to be accompanied.
I am going to hate the player and the game, thank you very much.
My type?
**Someone confident in himself and in his feelings for me.
**Someone who loves to laugh, knows when to take himself seriously, and knows when to let it all go.
**Someone strong in his convictions, but willing to listen with an open-mind to others' convictions.
**Someone strong in his faith ... and I'm not just talking religion here. I'm talking abiding, life-altering faith.
**Someone who is willing to accept me despite what the world dictates as the perfect woman.
**Someone who is soft and gentle, but will not stand for being a door mat.
**Someone who is not afraid of the fact that I have strong opinions and will regularly voice them.
**Someone who accepts that he is imperfect and makes mistakes and that's okay.
**Someone who accepts that I am imperfect and make mistakes and that's okay.
**Someone that will love my dreams, no matter their outlandishness and is willing to help me realize them.
Is this just a big, giant pipe dream? I mean, am I smoking the funny weed and looking at the world with rose-colored glasses?
After school, I asked her if she was excited about the date. I mean, the way this guy has been described, he sounds just FABULOUS! My question launched us into a mini-conversation ... an extension, really, of an on-going conversation, that we've had in the past.
Now, before I start into the meat of the conversation and my rumminations over the whole thing, I feel compelled to warn my readership ... so WARNING .... WARNING .... WARNING .... this blog entry is, in no way, meant to be a whiny, diatribe of pathetic desparation. I think sometimes, when I do decide to travel down the dating trail via my blog, I am often misunderstood as a snatch-and-grab kind of woman, pining away for anything in khakis and Florsheims (heaven help me! Florsheims????). Nothing could be further from the truth. So, if your inclination is to reply to me and warn me of my need to not be so whiny, don't bother. Enough said ... on with the blog!
Christy and I spent the next few minutes talking about what the dating scene looks like in general, and what it looks like, specifically, in Frankfort, and we talked about the nervousness of the "first date" experience, and our conversation ebbed and flowed over the same terrain most healthy, single women travel. I told her I felt slightly bummed that I've got no one that interests me, and no one suggesting interesting people for me, and how I secretly wished I could just go out with set-ups and not feel all the apprehensions that I feel when someone suggests a set-up to begin with. I told her (at least I think I did) that I envied her free-spirit that way. I shared with her that I know I don't feel I'm what would be the ideal date, what with the extra saddle bags on each thigh, and a safety tire around my middle, but that I'm working on it, and hopefully, those things won't always be part of me.
"I just wished people would suggest my type to me rather than the ones they do suggest. I mean, last weekend, everyone kept asking me if I would be interested in Ray* [name has been changed to protect the innocent], and honestly, Christy. Can you see me with him?"
She smiled and shook her head no.
"See. This is what I'm saying! I mean, he's got to be at least 5 years younger than me, and in this stage of the game, I'm just not into babysitting home-boy, you know what I mean?"
She nodded her head yes.
On my way home from work, as the traffic weaved in and out around me, I found myself rolling over the question everyone seems to always ask me: "What is your type?"
And I contemplated my typical answer: "I dunno."
But, see, I think that's wrong. I think I know exactly what my type is, and I've just never been able to clearly articulate it to people. Why? I dunno ...
I do know what my type is not:
**It is not the good ole' boy with the saggy britches and the incesscent need to sit reclined in their car, one wrist slung over their steering wheel! PAAAAHLEEEEZE!
**It is not the guy that tries to play off what a good, decent, salt of the earth kind of guy he is, all the while, he's got girls lining up to hang on his every word. I don't want Eddie Haskins (a little LEAVE IT TO BEAVER reference for all you TVLAND fanatics out there).
**It is not the boy that can't make a decision or a commitment on his own without some sort of hand-holding to be accompanied.
I am going to hate the player and the game, thank you very much.
My type?
**Someone confident in himself and in his feelings for me.
**Someone who loves to laugh, knows when to take himself seriously, and knows when to let it all go.
**Someone strong in his convictions, but willing to listen with an open-mind to others' convictions.
**Someone strong in his faith ... and I'm not just talking religion here. I'm talking abiding, life-altering faith.
**Someone who is willing to accept me despite what the world dictates as the perfect woman.
**Someone who is soft and gentle, but will not stand for being a door mat.
**Someone who is not afraid of the fact that I have strong opinions and will regularly voice them.
**Someone who accepts that he is imperfect and makes mistakes and that's okay.
**Someone who accepts that I am imperfect and make mistakes and that's okay.
**Someone that will love my dreams, no matter their outlandishness and is willing to help me realize them.
Is this just a big, giant pipe dream? I mean, am I smoking the funny weed and looking at the world with rose-colored glasses?
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