I love to loathe shallow people, but I guess when it comes to it, I have to stand up and be counted – my name is Nu, and I have the depth of a half filled paddling pool. I mean it’s not like I’m completely void (I get choked up watching comic relief), but when it comes to picking a new partner...I have to admit, I suffer completely from ‘book cover’ syndrome.
The saying is ‘plenty more fish in the sea’ and you know what? There really is, but what they don’t mention is that these fish are either lacking hair, on the wrong side of fifty or even worse, open conversations with ‘your fit’. I can tell you now, they can totally be flung back out there.
When my husband left me (I shall call him ‘Hims’ from now on in), I had almighty visions, of being alone with a mass of cats (this vision isn’t completely far from the truth). Ooh random question: if I had three dogs why wouldn’t I be the crazy dog lady? Sorry I digress. Anyhoo, I had this 'alone' vision, thinking I would never catch another man’s attention, I would never be asked out again, or bought a drink or share a kiss, but the world turns, time heals and I have definitely shared kisses.
I do believe the more you get to know someone, the more their physical appearance changes. You could meet a beautiful Adonis who is so rotten inside that his god-like beauty begins to tarnish, and equally you can find someone who isn’t going to appear on a cK advert, but over time you begin to notice things you never did before – they become more and more to your taste (either that, or you brainwash them into becoming your taste).
When I first met 'Hims' he was most definitely not my type. He was very dark and 'metally' (not 'metally' as in escaped from the wizard of oz tin-man metally, but 'metally' as in Dying Fetus and Nile metally). Men of my past (I use the term ‘men’ loosely) had been quite surfy and tended to ere towards the indie male variety – not entirely dissimilar to ‘shaggy’ from Scooby Doo. ‘Hims’ was good looking, don’t get me wrong, but he wouldn’t have initially stopped me in my tracks. However, as time went on, my view began to change. For someone who had hated moustaches and beards, I suddenly found myself mortified when he shaved them off. I began to like his hair longer and longer...and all of a sudden he was one of the most beautiful people I knew.
When we split, I was told to write a list of traits that I wanted from a new man...unbeknownst to me, I began to list everything about my husband, this was a very strange even, as before I had met him the whole facial fluff and rockabilly-get-up would not have featured too heavily. I stopped myself, and realised that maybe it wasn’t him who changed in appearance, but me who changed with preference.
The truth is, I don’t want another like ‘Hims’. I still have a particular penchant for facial hair and a masculine frame, but the new 'Hims' doesn't need to be an echo of the old ‘Hims’.
It’s nearly six months on since ‘Hims’ left me. During this time, I have dated a mixture of men, ranging from man-ho’s to psychos. I haven’t met another who I can claim to be ‘the one’, or even ‘the second one’, and on reflection, this is because the men who have influenced my dating world are all of a similar type.
So maybe my moment of enlightenment (regarding changing my preference) was wrong...or was it?
When I look over my ‘type’, I haven’t really changed my preference since my college days. I still like the long haired, tattooed, bad-boy rock-gods and yet, that cannot work, because even if my type hasn’t changed - I have; my needs have changed, my outlook has changed and my Friday night desires have changed (whether I wanted them to or not). If you keep on doing what you’ve always done, you will keep on getting what you have always got. Ten years ago, I wanted someone who will dance with me at the local nightclub, drink with me until we are both in a drunken stooper and make me compilation CD’s of obscure bands that I had never heard of, and although I still want to dance, and drink, and discover new music, I also want to have someone to talk to, someone to make decisions with me and to sit alongside. Wow, what do you know - I have changed; so my type really should too.
Yes, I admit that I'm pretty shallow, but I can also learn to broaden my horizons and that means I can also explore more. Men don’t have to be six foot five, they don’t have to have tattoos... and as long as they don’t wear pink shirts around me and they aren't follicley challenged, I can give it a go and who knows what my type will evolve to.
Roll on the year of discovery.
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