On Tuesday night, I went to see 'The Specials' with my dad. If you haven't heard of 'The Specials', they're a Ska/Reggae band that started out in the 80s. They're Daddy B's all time favourite band, so let's be honest, I was always going to like them, having been listening to them since the days that I looked like the offspring of the Michelin man (these days I'm more Shrek and Fiona). However, now I'm borderline ancient (sorry nan), I really do genuinely appreciate their music. It's genius, and cheers me up on bad hair days, bad face days, and bad life days!
Anyway, I'm not here to try and brainwash you with 'The Specials' music and turn you into a fully fledged fan. I'll let you be your own judge on that one! I'm here with a (not so) fascinating realisation that occurred whilst I sat next to my hyperactive father at the beginning of the gig, and subtly perved on all of the quirky guys in their pointed shoes and wonky hats. (If you're a regular GMC reader, you will know that I am a lover of all things wonky).
I sat there, and a chinwag I'd had with one of my best friends the day before popped into my buzzing mind. She'd ask me what my 'type' was (type of man that is, not my favourite brand of pork scratchings), and I'd replied with a confident answer that went something along the lines of this....
"Tall, dark, handsome, curved biceps, cheeky chap stylie, wears his heart on his sleeve, full of ambition, brain cells, confidence, compliments, and cuddles...."
In hindsight, this was a flawed description of my 'type', as I have never been involved with anyone that ticks all of those boxes. Additionally, while the latter might just scratch the surface of my GEC (Groom Eligibility Criteria), I'm also obviously quite a sucker for the more rugged, quirky, wonky-hat-wearing types that you're likely to find rummaging around in dusty antique stores, or, quite evidently, drinking six pints in twenty minute at a Specials gig.
It came to my attention that while I thought I knew exactly what I wanted on the male front, I'm actually about as clueless as I was when my gorgeous, tobacco coloured knitted socks mysteriously disappeared from my drawer last winter.
While part of me wants someone who's interested in the fact that I write, willingly reads my blog, and buys me expensive pens for Christmas, the other part of me wants someone that will respect the fact it's my passion, but take the p*ss out of me a little for being a Class A nerd. After all, there's nothing quite like a healthy bit of banter and sarcasm! And while I adore the geeky, quirky, mysterious types, I'm also hugely attracted to the 'laddish' kinds (think slim fit, slouchy jeans, polo tops, and an Abercrombie & Fitch store card). I'm attracted to guys that that ride horses, wear waistcoats, and speak every word beautifully, and I'm equally attracted to guys with cheeky Essex accents, that wear outrageously coloured trainers, and love nothing more than a cheeky pint or five with their 'wingman' down their local.
I find it absolutely exciting that I'm as chilled out and open-minded as I am, as it means that I generally have no clue which 'type' of guy will be have me head over heels in the future, or who I might waddle down to at the end of the aisle, assuming of course that fate doesn't have plans for me to spend my whole life writing about hideously embarrassing dates and speculating the topic of the future husband. Either way, I'm happy!
Basically, I've learnt that I know nothing (except of course for what I definitely don't want), and that I was silly for ever thinking that I have a 'type'. I'm attracted to all sorts of different people, for all sorts of different reasons. I'd call it being an open-minded human being, but my mother would probably call it being a giant pervert. What do you think ladies?! Do you have a type? Is your boyfriend the kind of guy you'd thought you'd end up dating?
I hope you're all doing okay, and that you're having a beautiful week. It's Friday tomorrow ladies! Yay! Lots of love, hugs and kisses xXx