I’ve heard over and over again that I most definitely have a type. I think they look different, act different, talk different and interests vary, but from an outsiders point of view I have a very specific type. Brunette, 5’10 – 6’1, generally somewhat athletic, somewhat musical and open to new things. The problem with this little makeup is that everybody around me sees the same guy over and over, yet I can tell you exactly how they differ down to their neer-be-mentioneds.
Some are stronger communicators. Some are handier. Some are estranged from their families. Some are mamma’s boys. Some have daddy issues. Some have depression. Some have god complexes. Some are happy all the time. Some like biographies. Some like video games. Some excel at volleyball. Some dig baseball. Some like reggae, whereas others like hardcore rap, hell, one only knows songs because they are punk covers. None read enough, most mope about the things they don’t have, and all like to drink. So, you see, I see many different guys and even though I keep tweaking that recipe over and over, I just haven’t perfected it.
I never expected this whole dating in your 30’s, deciphering texts, reading between the lines, juggling competition to be my life. This can’t be my life, it’s a funny storyline in a hilarious television show, but sadly, it isn’t, it’s actually my life. And hers, and his, and a million other friends I have. We just don’t seem to have the ability to land those keepers that actually make sense. But, I guess I’ll keep trialling out new contestants, because what other choice do I have? Well, I guess, trialling out cats.
A funny scene in a show I recently discovered pointed out how there was something remarkably wrong about every person that this girl ever dated and I can’t help but feel like there is some truth in it. The differences, rights and wrongs I find are in the people I actually date, this does not even fringe upon the people I have talked to or entertained a “meet with”. There are many kinds of people out there, but more importantly there are many kinds of the wrong people out there. The key is to never settle and find the one kind of wrong that’s right for you. I think somebody must have changed my lock.
What’s this guy’s problem? The last one was Racist Dave, before him was Ambiguous Andrew and Micropenis Paul. Ya, it’s a war out there! So, what’s this guy’s deal, does he smell like a cat, does he have a cat, is he a cat? – Frankie & Grace
Now if only we could find out what they all say about me….
The Ginga Ninja