You're Not My Type

I always dated the pretty boys. You know the type- the guys that take longer to get ready than I do, and I take at least an hour. I didn't date the cheesy ones that thought they were cool but weren't or that used tanning beds- only the gorgeous ones that smelled really good. (Don't get me started on the cologne Obsession.) Muscles are a plus for most people but were a requirement for me. Tall was a bonus being that I am just a hair under 6', but I did date some guys that were a few inches shorter than me. If they dropped under 5'7", it just looked ridiculous, although their face would be right about at my breast level, so for them maybe it would have been okay.

But I digress as usual.

I always dated my type. It didn't vary too much. I was attracted only to my type. It didn't vary at all in that respect. I tried dating a few that weren't my type, but it usually only lasted a few hours before I got annoyed because they didn't have the good looks to keep me entertained and entranced past their first paragraph of speaking.

Kind of like this blog, I am sure.

90% of my friends growing up were male. I relate to males quite well. I am sarcastic as can be, pretty sharp with my tongue. (No innuendos intended.) I was a tomboy growing up. I liked to be outside. I hated playing with dolls. I liked Matchbox cars much better. I used my imagination all the time. I did not own Barbies. The only doll I ever got that I was really excited about was my Cabbage Patch Kid, but years later when Garbage Pail Kids came out, that was much better. Riding my bike and skates (they didn't have in-line skates back in the day) were my favorite thing. I was my own extreme sports girl.

Throughout high school and college, I always related to guys better than females. My best friends were always female, but the majority were male.

I met J my freshman year of college. We hung out. He had a car and would take me to work. He was a troublemaker and also sarcastic. I loved taking him on verbally. We would wrestle over the dumbest things and he always, inevitably, got hurt. He was funny, funny, funny. If he were my type, we would have dated.

He wasn't.

He was more "alternative". He had a shaved head, five earrings, a tattoo and a long, black goatee. He was skinnier than I was which was pretty hard to do. At 6'4", he probably weighed 150 pounds when soaking wet dressed in his full wardrobe. He was into sports and music. He had the rattiest looking car of five colors and a sliding roof- which he assured me was cool. He drove other vehicles at times. I never saw him on the weekends. He showed up to morning classes with a Mountain Dew and Snickers for breakfast.

He was the one person I felt I could be honest with all the time. He was a "bad kid" at the college, just like me. (Remember the story of the daisy dukes? This was that time frame and the college I went to had a dress code.)

J became one of my best friends. People always asked why we didn't date. (Do you see any muscles? How many days does he go before washing his hair again? He has no fashion sense.)

Anyway. How could you date someone you aren't physically attracted to? You can't.

I was doing homework in my dorm. I went to go grab a book I needed. The book was next to the window that overlooked the campus. I saw J talking to the college flirt. (She was ugly. She never had a boyfriend. All she wanted was a boyfriend.)

I went back and completed my homework. I finished and put back the book. I glanced out the window, and J was still talking to that girl.

I got mad.

My jaw dropped. "Oh my God," I said as my eyes glazed over. I was stunned. I was jealous. I loved J.

My freshman year was drawing to a close. I had only 3 weeks left. I loved someone! And I couldn't play the usual dating games because we had been such close friends for almost a year. I was always honest with him. I never cared what he thought of me. And I began to act awkward around him, or at least I thought I did.

How did I fall for the punk guy?

School ended. I went home for the summer.