Head over heart… works every single time.
Four years ago, my best friend and I consumed two bottles of cheap white wine and agreed on a fact that had been glaringly obvious for years: I had truly, laughably, disturbingly bad taste in men.
From an athlete who insisted on calculating my body fat percentage to a cocaine-obsessed man-bun wearer, the dudes I brought home as a teenager were either dreamy artist types or Alpha Males with Outrageous Egos.
The one thing they all had in common? They were always met with tight, polite smiles and tactful “she’ll-grow-out-of-it” eye-rolls over my head at the family dinner table.
My shocking taste in men didn’t particularly matter while I was busy being young and ridiculous. But, as I grew to full-time-work age, I got serious. I didn’t want to waste my emotional energy dating a handsome architect only to discover he’d been a member of the Young Liberals, or invest three weeks into a guy before realising he was a misogynist who’d always insist on ordering (salad) for me on a date. I had a career and some travels to get started with.
And hell, call me a tragic, old-fashioned cliche but I just wanted an awesome, well-matched male human to do those things with — wich meant I had to try to resist my emotional pull towards loud-mouthed deadbeats and start listening to my brain, which knew my bad taste in men wasn’t doing me any favours.
Top Comments
I agree with this approach, and used a version of it myself once upon a time, having dated several chaps who were... not that awesome in various ways. I acknowledged I wanted someone I could see a future with and decided ''right. No more as*hats!''. Look, it's not a list, but as soon as game-playing and worrying and ''trying not to appear keen'' type things enter the picture, my natural paranoia comes to the fore and it's more trouble than it's worth. Within 3 months I had met my husband. It was just... easy. Of course there was a smidge of ''will-he-won't-he-call'', but in a fun way, no anxiety or fretting. Neither of us is remotely perfect, but I chose well, a person for the very long haul, for the hard times as well as the good, a wonderful sense of humour, we each have strengths and weaknesses and he is my teammate. 10 years married this year! So much of the ''he must be gorgeous and super-hot and sensitive and LOOOOVEE mountain biking'' bullet points just fade after a while, not that there's anything wrong with any of those things, but deciding what is really important over the long haul is key, and being open to possibilities... being super-picky is lovely at 25. Not so much at 35, and it means that you either compromise on certain things or deal with being single.
I had a rough checklist of things I would prefer - not necessarily non-negotiables - as smart or smarter than me, tall (as I am tall-ish, I wanted taller), outdoorsy, practical, handy, not a "suit", not more than 4 years younger than me - and I ended up with a guy who met all my criteria, but it's all very subjective. I don't think it hurts to set our your expectations as long as you're flexible. You can't really predict the chemistry and what guy will make you laugh or be kind etc. In my early 20s I found some vain guys quite appealing (God knows why) but thankfully I grew out of that! It's easier if you have shared values and come from a similar background and find each other amusing.