Type Setting

I think it was fully appropriate that we were having a conversation about dating over a sushi dinner just before we went off to see Sex and the City at the movie theatre.

Me to him: Do you think you have "a type"?
Her: Other than M?
Me: *giggle*
Him: Har har. No, not really.
Him to her: Do you have a type?
Me: Yeah, assholes.
Her to me: Not as much as you.
Me to her: What? No way. *thinks* Yeah, I guess you're right.

For the record, no one I've ever dated was an asshole. The assholes are the ones I just sleep with.

Zing.

I think it's highly unfortunate that a joke like that is both funny and a completely accurate description of my life. It's true, I've never really had a 'type' when it comes to people I date. If you look at the real, significant relationships I've had, all my partners in them have been vastly different, save for a few similar characteristics: they were all sweet and wildly intelligent, which, to me means that they were more or less geeky and/or dorky in their own geeky and dorky ways. When it comes to the relationships I've had of the flimsy variety, the ones I possess raw, wanton, animal lust for have all been some variation of "cool". They're the musicians, the writers, the photographers, the unattainable HAWT, the well travelled abalone-ring handmade-hemp-necklace wearing types. They're also the ones who are no good for me and more or less treat me like crap. Except for Mr. D-bag from December who, except for those last two characteristics, was none of the above things and who, surprise, it didn't work out with.

And now to think of it, it has NEVER worked out with ANYONE. Sigh.

I date people who are just like me, and I want people who are the opposite of me. So, my 'type'? Apparently the type that doesn't exist, except for IN MY HEAD.

Next year, someone please make this into a card and send it to me on February 14th:
"Just wanted to make sure you're not hanging from your shower rod. Happy Valentine's Day!"
3:45 pm