My Type of Guy

Tinka asked me: "What kind of boyfriend do you want? I know a couple single guys that live in the L.A. area. I just don't know what's your type."

Initially, I was speechless. What is my type? What kind of boyfriend do I want? Then the answer came quickly like a flood, rushing in: I want a perfect one! Then reality settled in. "Haemi, that's not going to be too likely. Is your head screwed on tight this morning?" I asked myself.

Of course, y'all know that I kinda sorta attempted to discuss this very topic a while back. That blog entry can be found HERE. I couldn't find anything conclusive from the discussed points, so this became my conclusion for the time being.

Nearly a year later, I feel that I am ready to tackle this issue again. I think I'll need to eventually find a solution for myself in this regards so that I can weed out the non-qualifying participants out of the race immediately without spending too much time on them and losing focus on the goal. You've got to be goal-oriented about something like this.

So what do I look for in a man? Let's start with the superficial. You've got to look like an average person. You know, I used to plea to the almighty about this. Please god, just please let me meet a guy who's just normal, that's all I ask! Alas, the almighty failed to provide, but it's not like I believed in a higher being, so I considered the whole episode null and void. But really. Superficially, my "type" of guy should be average. Not too hot, not too Shrek-like. Also, he should dress well, or at the very least, appropriately. That means NO RED PAISLEY PANTS! In all seriousness, sometimes the clothes do make the man. I don't expect to be dating a man decked out in Armani or Prada, although there's nothing wrong with Couture, but if you're wearing black trousers that are a tad too short (some may call'em high-water), and they reveal the color of your socks (black slacks and white athletic socks or socks of any bold color, i.e. red, periwinkle are not appropriate), I'll have to report you to the fashion police! I'll never be caught wearing Juicy sweats with words written across the ass-covering portion, or any sort of dress with double-sided tapes. I'm not going to quiz a guy on the details of the newest trends in fashion, but dressing appropriately is almost as important as refraining from passing gas in public! So a guy who recognizes appropriate attires is a major plus.

As I was saying, average. Not really average height (the average height of males in the US is 5'9"!) but I suppose averagely tall, if that makes any sense. Anywhere from 5'10" to 6'4" sounds alright. I'm 5'6" and I love to wear heels, which sometimes makes me a towering 5'9", but at the very least, a 5'8". I like men with hair on their heads. Not a fan of bald men, even if it was intentionally done. It's okay if a guy has short hair, brown hair, black hair, red hair, blonde hair, but if it's longer than my hair, I'd cringe a little. Not a fan of 'fros or that upside down bowl-like hair cut (see right) nor am I willing to date anyone who's greying. Also, no albinos. I would feel as though I were dating Silas, from The Da Vinci Code. So no albinos and no greying hairs and no baldies. I know love crosses all boundaries and whatnot, but I honestly think I should date someone closer to my own age -- so plus points if you're under 40! Yay!

Well, I should be a little bit more clear about the age thing. I don't think I can handle men who are too old or two young. Broadly speaking, perhaps about 23 to 33 years of age sounds about good. But that really depends on the guy -- a mature 23 year old is much better than a spoiled and childish 30 year old, and believe me they exist! So age is another thing I look at with much scrutiny.

Weight. I know this is a very sensitive issue in this politically correct society, but I have to address it. I am unwilling to date someone who is obese. This is not to say that I am judgemental -- I know how tough it is to be "fat" and rough it in the world. I know how difficult it is to control weight. But I don't think I have enough strength, patience, or love in my heart to embrace a person with a disease. And yes, obesity is a disease. Being obese means you're not healthy -- it means more to me than "he's fat." Obesity screams out to me that this man is possible of a plethora of other diseases and conditions: heart disease, diabetes, hypertention, just to name a few. As a person who's about to plunge into a health-related profession, I don't think I can handle those implications. A few extra pounds, I don't mind, and in fact, I encourage (although I guess one can argue how much exactly, is a "few" extra pounds) it. Hate to see a twiggy skinny guy. Rule of thumb, if I can beat the living daylights out of you, then I don't think I should date you (not that I resort to violence or anything!). Being muscularly developed is alright, but if you're buffer than Ah-nold, I'd have to think twice. If your biceps are larger than my head, it really doesn't qualify in my definition of average. Anywhere from 170-200 lbs, depending on height, sounds about right to me, although I don't go out and measure men's weights before committing to a date. Look healthy. Be healthy. Healthy is good.

Speaking of diseases. I am also not willing to date people who are terminally ill. Yes, that's cold, I know. But look! I haven't really dated in a long time, and I'd hate to see that my first boyfriend in three years is going to die in the middle of the relationship! So if the doctor gave you a sentence, telling you that you have three months to live, no. Sorry. I want a living body, dammit. I know y'all think that I am so weird to be obsessing over these minute details. But it used to be that I would tell my girlfriends that any guy who's nice and funny is A-OK. Then I had a string of men who were really extraordinary, special even, and by special I mean special as in people who have to wear a helmet at all times to prevent them from hurting themselves. Then this guy had the biggest crush on me and he was about 5'3" and he had no neck. "No neck?" you ask. "Waddaya mean, no neck?" Well, I'll tell you. He was short and stout, much like a tea pot. He was extremely overweight, possibly obese. His chin and cheeks seem to smoothly morph into his shoulders, causing him to look like he lacked a neck. He shall forever be remembered as the guy with no neck to me. So please. Be free of diseases, and please have a distinct body parts. If I can't tell where your chin ends and your torso begins, it is not a good sign. Please see a health professional.

Let's move away from the superficial things, as I am beginning to sound strangely insensitive.

Personality. The most important thing would be that he has a sense of humor. He doesn't have to be Jim Carrey. He has to like "The Simpsons." He has to know when to be light-hearted and when to be serious. He also has to be tolerant. Please, if you're a member of the KKK or the Skinheads, you need not apply. I know everyone's got their share of prejudice in their hearts. I know I've got mine. But it is important that you recognize that it is a fault and you have to strive to fix it. But no blatantly open racists and haters and misogynists. If you have participated in a hate crime of any kind, NO, NO, and NO.

Intelligence. The more intelligent, the better. Someone I can learn things from. It doesn't matter if he has a Ph.D. in rocket science or he just solves crossword puzzles in pen. He's got to be intelligent, but not be snooty about it. None of that "I'm better than you" attitude. I know I'm a snob already, so I know what it's about. If you know you're a snob, fix it. I secretly think that I am better than some people, and it's just so wrong. I know. I try to be humble at all times and think of the embarrassing situations I've faced because I were a snob. So at least I try. The guy's also have to know what's going on in the world. I'm not expecting any political science majors, but he's got to know that Arafat is dead and Saddam has been caught and Rummy has resigned and Condie will take over and he's also got to know some history, like who was the female vice presidential candidate in the '84 election.

Animal lovers. He doesn't have to love insects, and actually, I'd prefer that he didn't harbor any insects, pseudopods, arachnids, centipedes or other multi-legged (more than four) creatures in his home. But he has to like animals. He has to at least like dogs and cats and other furry creatures. He has to be humane to animals, which means no kicking dogs in the stomach because he's angry. Also, he has to love the environment. It's ok if he's not a tree-hugger or drives a Prius. But he shouldn't throw garbage out the window while he's driving. Biggest turn off ever. EVER. E V E R!

Also, I'd prefer men who don't smoke, and I'd also prefer men who like to drink. Not excessively, of course (alcoholism is a disease!), but a man who wants to share a bottle of wine now and then. Believe it or not, some men find it wasteful to have a bottle of wine with dinner at a restaurant. Granted, it's not something I'd do on a daily basis, as I am all for frugality (I am queen of being frugal!), but on a special occasion, a bottle of wine is nice. Beer's good. A midori sour's very nice. What was I talking about again? Oh yes. Men. So if you're going to pass out after a bottle of beer and I have to carry you home because you're wasted, that's a bad sign. Men who can hold their liquor. But don't worry. I won't hold beer chugging contests or anything (ugh, I have incriminating photos of me, with the end of a beer bong in my mouth, so I know what it feels like to be doing something crazy, and have it captured in film!).

Education. Education is extremely important. I'd prefer either a college graduate, or someone who is working on getting there. Someone who studies. Someone who knows the symbol for integration, and someone who knows a line or two of Shakespeare (they're all cliches, so you must remember at least a couple! "Once more to the breach..." "Friends, Romans, Countrymen..." "Et tu, Brute?" "Oh Romeo Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo" "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York" etc.) and knows what a noble gas is (hint: it doesn't come out from your rear end) and at least faintly remembers what the Krebs Cycle is. He should know what the Constitution is and what the amendments are (I saw an episode of Jay Leno where he went out and asked people if they knew what amendments were and if they knew what the Bill of Rights were -- you can guess how many dead presidents turned over in their graves!).

A warm heart. I am not a lovey dovey person myself, and I don't even like hugging people (having physical contact with people I'm just not that close to urks me, and hello! Germs!). But I'm a warm hearted person, nonetheless. I am compassionate. I'm not going to be attracted to men who like to burn ants with a magnifying glass. That's plain cruelty. A nice guy. Isn't that just what women want?

You know what would be the cherry on a perfect sundae? A guy who buys flowers. What woman doesn't like flowers (except those with allergies)? It's a universal truth, and yet, men still don't buy flowers nearly enough. I've received flowers from one boyfriend on one occasion. My first long-term boyfriend never bought me flowers, because he felt that it was a waste of money. When I griped about it (I was 19, I was young and naive), he bought me flowers on the next Valentine's day. Only, it was a single rose encased in a plastic box, and IT WAS FAKE. I gave him credit for trying. His excuse was that he wanted to get me something that lasts. Uh-huh. I received a bouquet of roses on Valentine's day a year or two later, but that was it. Not even on my birthday have I received flowers. So buy me flowers dammit!

I'm going to cite one example where flowers are bad. My most recent date, which was I think in August or so, gave me two flowers. It was after a horrible date. He got in his truck, came out, and gave me two flowers. I think they were daisies or something like that. But they were sitting in the truck long enough that they were withered and browning. The stem was also about an inch in length, which was not at all pretty. So dead flowers you picked out from the lawn are not good.

Basically, this is a general guideline. I think more important is that the guy doesn't have a quality that just disqualifies him. For example, he can fit all this criteria, but if he tells me during dinner, "are you sure you should have that dessert?" I'm going to scream bloody murder. There are just certain things that just really freaks me out and makes me run for the nearest exit. It's hard to say what they are -- sometimes I am surprised to find myself getting freaked out over these things. You'd be surprised too, if you came across a guy who didn't know who Socrates was. Just makes me feel like screaming, "where have you been all your life? Do you live in a cave?! Honestly!" So that would be the answer to the question, "what is your type?" Men who follow the above guideline and who don't commit major faux pas (aforementioned black high-waters and white socks) are my type.

Please don't think that I'm just the horriblest snob ever for being so picky and insensitve. I'm not picky and I'm not insensitive at all. But believe me. I have met men who belong in a circus. If you've met them too, you'd be as paranoid as I am. I'm just being careful, that is all. Well now. That was a mouthful, wasn't it? I congratulate all who made it to the end of this entry. Give yourself a pat on the back!