What’s My Type?

We’ve all heard it. He’s cute, but he’s not my type. Same thing for the men out there. She’s beautiful, but I prefer blondes. Don’t we all. All of us, in our years of romantic adventures and cautionary tales, have crafted a “type” — a collection of qualities that we find desirable. The tall, slender, slightly hunky guy with a chiseled jaw, shimmering eyes, the perfect stubble, waves of tawny hair that tickle his ears — maybe he played tennis, maybe he studied economics in college but opted for a career in something creative, which happens to be cresting into financial prosperity just at this very moment — oh, and he’s quietly hilarious, brimming with confidence, world-traveled, well-read (three of your top five favorite books are the same), impeccably dressed, adorably pensive when there’s something on his mind — ah, shoot. Cinderella nabbed him.

If this, or something similarly specific is your “type”, then you aren’t looking for a man, you’re looking for a robot, created in a faraway laboratory of love to sweep you off your unsuspecting feet. So what is your “type”? Guys are just as guilty of designing their own, and if all of us have overdone it a bit, then are we to simply keep it simple? Average-height, dark hair, nice smile. Funny, smart, outgoing. Done. That gets us nowhere, too.

No one would “have a type” if having one hadn’t worked in the past — trial and error, natural sensibility, social preferences, physical attributes — we all have some measure of clarity about what we like, or what we’re drawn to. What we sense, somehow, is that whatever it is that embodies your type, the thing we’re really looking for is that indescribable, unquantifiable, un-categorizable feeling that comes when we’re in their presence. That invisible thing that doesn’t fit on a list, or look good at the beach, or spend a surprise bonus from their boss on a sneak-away weekend to the Caymans. It’s useful to know what you’re looking for, especially in a city of 8.5 million, wherein every “type” of person is swiping their metro card in a perpetual hurry. But maybe your type isn’t as easy to fill up with adjectives or pick from a lineup as you think — maybe you’re looking for that “feeling”, really, and maybe the person who gives it to you will have curlier hair and bluer eyes than you’d ever have been willing to consider.

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