Friday, 14 December 2012

My Type.

So I'm trying to carry on in the 'not talking about angry feminism quite so much' thing and OH MY GOD do I have a type. I have been interested in boys since I was 14, think. Well, I had my first boyfriend then so I assume I was somewhat interested in him. His name was Aaron and he was lovely and turned out to be a really good friend of the following through years. I haven't spoken to him since we left school but he was consistently good at being a good person. I still have a tiny pink fluffy teddy bear he brought me back from America, I don't know where it is but I've never actively thrown it away so I think that counts as still having it. He was funny. Funny is probably the first of the criteria of 'my type'. We made in jokes that didn't make sense and he said comments that can remember laughing at forever. Now in the September and October of 2005 stuff changed for me, I had a boyfriend called Matt who was a Christian and wouldn't kiss me and it took me one summer to grow easily bored of this. A few weeks into Year 10 I chose badly amongst his friends to cure my boredom and was somewhat attacked by him.

This won't turn into my molestation story. I was basically playing a game of chicken with myself that got horribly out of hand, I ran away lets leave it there. But a couple of weeks later I met Pete where I discovered my next trait I looked for, smart. Pete was smart and funny. He was also fucking weird but for better or worse we were together for a week shy of 3 years. It is because of him that I do not do one night stands and that I don't tend to go into relationships lightly. Being with Pete taught me that I am very much a monogamous, long term relationship kind of lady and so found my next box to tick, committed. My life is cliche enough so that commitment is the hardest out of any of my requests to find.

If we skip over the part where I make a fool out of myself for a boy so bad we now both think the other is crazy. We come to 2 years later, yes this is 2 years of no sex, which would absolutely explain why I found the last and remaining trait and immediately jumped into bed with it. Tall. Fuck me I like Tall. There is something about having to really look UP to see someone's face that I find unnaturally alluring.  I can look at pretty much any very tall male of around my age and be attracted to it. For a while in the beginning stages of being with Tom I somehow thought height was the only thing missing in the boys I had dated before. Now the most I can say without opening pretty recently healed wounds would be that me and Tom were together for over a year and although we cared about each other, he never seemed quite sure of me and I spent my days being jealous of the people who got the spend there time with him. Looking back in the harsh light of my laptop I can see that I was a crazy person and kind of wanted him to give up his life for me. I wouldn't be sure of me in that state either.

So as we come to the end of this horrendous, unplanned and not very well executed inner monologue we have learnt that my type would be TALL, funny, really smart and committed. But one thing I would also say would be that that specific boy would have to be into a crazy, serial monogamist who would like to feel small. Which I suppose could be a thing? Right? Please?

I'm fucking screwed if its not.

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