Here Come the Singles - Redux

At our artery clogging fried chicken dinner Saturday night, when Hungry Monster asked me what my "type" was, or what I was looking for, I was seriously and sadly stumped by her simple question the rest of the night. Do I have a type? Do I know what I want? I don't know if I do. I came to the realization that the people I've actually dated are very different from the people I've actually liked. And that sounds kinda bad.

What I mean is that all those boys I've harbored little crushes to intense infatuations on - they've never liked me back. Or at least enough to date me. The boys I dated ever so briefly - they liked me and made the first move. And though I hadn't considered them first but wasn't necessarily repulsed by the idea, I decided to just dive in with a "eh, what the hell" kinda attitude. It didn't mean I didn't get hurt all the same, but it was a different kind of hurt. And that explanation doesn't sound all too great either.

As I sat there, pondering this little conundrum, SC Homey quipped "If Dr. Phil were here, he'd tell you that you need to figure out what YOU want first, before you can go out there and find it." Darn Dr. Phil. I hate it when that pompous whale is right.