I wouldn't say I have a specific type in men. Not superficially, anyway. Looking back at the guys I have dated, semi-dated or would have loved to date, they're a smorgasbord of ages, races, heights & widths. Gorgeous in my eyes, but never classic. As far as personalities go, though, I'm starting to detect a pattern. And considering the sorry state of my dating history, maybe it's time to step away from it.
They're quirky, but in an interesting, social way. "Intriguing", I guess, as juvenile as that sounds. They have a story, a history, a fair amount of family-related bagage. Which adds to the interesting-ness. They're professionally or at the least very intensely involved in the arts - photography, music, literature, theatre, you name it. They're verbal, know how to phrase an idea without having to resort to sighs, head scratches and "or something"s. They're creative and have an acute sense of style, as well as issues with compromises and sacrifices. They're determined, firmly behind the wheel. You're more than welcome to climb unto the passenger seat and even push some buttons - something I can rarely resist - but the route is all theirs to call. And the typical scenario so far has been an immediate attraction, a very swift sealing of the deal, a few lovely weeks, a few weeks of nagging doubts & swallowing my words, an emotionally cold conversation and a gradual easing into decent friends. Or not. I feel liberated, released and a little more worried about finding someone who fully and confidently and thrillingly digs me and is himself diggable. The end.
Do I place myself in that position, do I seek out hard-shelled men because I secretly hope I'll be able to crack them? Or is it a "birds of a feather" situation? Both, neither?
I'm meeting some friends tonight at a gallery in Brussels. It's the opening night of a photo exhibit by a famous photographer/choreographer and I suggested we go & crash the reception. The perfect place to meet men who are by no means creative, clever or brooding! Right? Sigh.