After the somewhat grim tone of my flashback to 7th grade, I figure it may be time to another break for a more general rant. Much like the “She Likes You” Game, it’s time to redefine one of the terms or phrases I may be throwing around a lot. In fact, I already have and I am likely not alone. So, what’s the “type” of woman that I prefer?
This may wax philosophical into how men and women sometimes “rate” each other. Most people seem to utilize a number rating system, where a zero would be Quasimodo, a ten would be [INSERT YOUR FAVORITE MODEL OR ACTOR(ESS)], with a five being the average Joe or Jane Schmoe. During one of my countless insecure moments in college, I posted a picture of myself at HOT OR NOT.COM and at best I was rated “4.7% Hot”, which was right around that average. At other times, people usually throw around adjectives to describe their “type”, and how kind or poor they sound depends on the one giving them. One person’s “fatso” can be another’s “full figured”, and one could claim the same about virtually any body type on any person. Our society places a lot of pressure on physical appearances – more on women than men, but still some pressure on both sexes – although that’s also not the only attractive factor that some can have for others. Mass media from fairy tales to TV shows and films attempt to drill into the heads of women to see “the true heart behind the Beast/nerd/jerk/Batman” as a pop culture moral. I can’t say I have experienced any of this in my personal life, but I am aware that it exists, and there is little in the way of a gender flipped narrative (beyond rare films such as “Shallow Hal”, which still prefers to cast an attractive and lean actress and dress her in a “fat suit” rather than have a full figured female lead). In recent years there has been some more pressure on the physical appearances of men, at least in terms of bulging muscles and hairless bodies (even for men with full beards), but that’s still a fraction of what women get bombarded with.
Having often felt like an alien among my own species, much of what I have learned about the opposite sex beyond my own usually awkward and pitiful interactions has come from “study” of not only media, but others and especially online circles. I’m an avid reader of many Tumblr accounts run by women as well as sites such as “The Mary Sue” and “Jezebel”, which I enjoy due to the topics and writing quality but also to broaden my horizons and fight my own macho perceptions. Unfortunately, attempting to use this data to try to figure out what women like best is impossible, as every woman is different. As a crude generalization, men who are at least six feet tall, physically fit, dashingly handsome, and with access to a good job/pile of cash, their own place and a car tend to be of “catch” quality to most straight, single women. Men, by contrast, seem to segment their “type” of woman into simpler and more crude slots, at times bordering on whatever their fetish is. Some men like blondes, others red heads, or focus on a woman’s chest, or rear end, or so on. Even a woman’s ethnicity can become a fetish to men, unfortunately. In terms of interpersonal relations, the men I seem to hang out with usually expect a woman to tolerate his baggage, but rarely are as patient with hers for long. Yet being more sensitive hasn’t exactly gotten me many dates, either.
When I was younger, I used more crude terms to describe women I fancied same as my peers have. As I have gotten older and attempted to evolve, I have sought to redefine these terms I use, even to myself. Thus, I’d rather say that someone “wasn’t my type” rather than claim them as “fat” or “ugly” or so on. Naturally, one may say this is a result of my own experiences with bullying and peer shaming, although I admit this sort of change within my own acts and words came later than it should have. So what is my ideal type of woman? Often when asked this, my answer sometimes seems wishy washy and it could be in how I describe it. The best way to get to it is to say that I am a “face” man – in that in terms of physical attraction, a woman’s face is what immediately draws me in. I imagine this is a hold over from childhood, since none of us are born in puberty – which is good because reaching it after a decade or so is rough enough! So long as a woman’s face is one that I “like”, the rest to me are details. If am honest, it is possible for a woman to be too lean or too full figured for me, although I would like to think my range is wider than most of my peers. My golden rule is that I don’t expect any woman I am with or attracted to to be a super model until I myself am one. I am intimidated by women who are taller than I am, as I often feel emasculated and shy enough around them. I do believe that faces are unique, to the point that none are the same beyond for some sets of twins, and to this end I feel my type is more flexible and varied. Hell, I even find glasses on a woman attractive – to the point that if I did use a “number system”, glasses would add +1 to appearance same as a sword would add +10 to their damage roll.
Naturally, there is more to a type than physical looks, even if that often is what initially attracts. Again, I feel personalities are varied and I also feel I am open minded. When tasked to come up with a blunt “type”, I often throw up my hands and narrow down my ideal personality types to either “Catwoman” or “Princess Toadstool”. By this I mean I tend to become attracted to women who seem dangerous and impulsive, far more so than I and willing to yank me from my shell, or to those who I feel need to be helped or protected. I do realize that the latter is likely condescending. Ideally I prefer women who are intelligent, experienced at life, and like at least some of the same things that I do. I would add that having a former “flower child” as a mother has caused me to not have any hang ups in terms of a woman’s sexual experience; I don’t get wrapped up in “Madonna/whore” complexes. Considering my own virginity and lack of game, I’d NEED a woman to be more experienced otherwise nothing would ever get done! Yet as I go through life I find that women seem to prefer convicted felons than someone who needs to be led by the hand ’round the bases.
What type would I be to a woman? My blunt, id answer would be, “a loser”, but let’s try to be objective here. I am of average height for a man (5′ 8” – 5′ 9”) and while I am not obese, I am at least 10-15 lbs. overweight for my body mass ratio. I have dark hair, which unfortunately means I can appear like I have a stubble even when I shave until I bleed. I am missing part of a tooth due to my 7th grade misadventures, and I do have a red mole on my face. I’ve been told more than once that my looks were average for a man; no greater or worse than most men out there. Not being tall or fit, or coordinated, are major downsides as is being broke. I do actually have a minor abnormality on my back, which is noticeable to anyone who hugs me, which would immediately kill any physical desire in any partner when they discover it. Having it removed would be a health risk (as doctors’ mistakes are actually the third most common form of death in America) and because this is a cosmetic issue, isn’t covered by insurance and is beyond what I could afford. I suppose I am intelligent, and I like nerdy things, but I am also incredibly shy and have severe esteem issues – to the point that someone could claim I am “passive aggressive” if they were being crude. I always imagined I would be an ideal man for the sort of woman who wanted to use and dominate someone of weaker willpower, yet I haven’t even caught the eye of women who seemed to get off on dominating others. I do possess a sense of humor, which is a classic attractive detail issued by women in magazines and polls, but do this date that’s only landed me in the role of quirky associate or a good friend. Now, I certainly don’t mind being friends with women; there are at least 2-3 who I have been friends with for over a decade and happily so. Yet it becomes difficult to avoid getting bitter when everything you read (by women) claims they like open minded, funny, sensitive men yet they always seem to gravitate towards burly hair gelled types who drink first and question later. Even my most sensitive and open minded male friends are far less tolerant of a woman’s baggage than I am, and far more blunt in their desires.
I sometimes feel that if I were horribly ugly – like “DARKMAN” ugly – I’d at least have pity or fascination going for me, due to that “Beauty and the Beast” narrative I mentioned earlier. Yet as someone who is merely one average face among millions with no wealth, body tone, charm or personality to make up for it, I’m just a face in the crowd, forever alone. A trip to the dentist is better than a date with me, because at least a dentist has a good job and plenty of experience with hands and mouths. I’ve never earned a second date in my entire life, and by this stage in the game I doubt I ever will. I am more than aware that men of my type often mean more drama and baggage than most women care to deal with, and I can’t say that I blame them.
At this point I may as well mention a piece of advice I always disagreed with – asking out women who were NOT my type merely as a confidence or experience building exercise. “Oh, ask out girls you don’t like, that way you won’t be nervous!” Firstly, I would still be nervous, even if I was asking out a mummy that just sat up in the MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY. But secondly and more importantly, I consider that to be cruel. Having been used and exploited by others at many times, I try to limit if not negate my acts doing so to others. I feel I am not being genuine asking out a woman who is not my type, to either her or myself. Worse, what if I am her type and our entire interaction was just a ploy for my own benefit? Maybe other men don’t care about that sort of thing, but I do. It isn’t being “open minded” to use someone else just to “get your rocks off” without stress. She’d be better off with a man whose type she is, not one looking for an ego boost.
TL:DR – My type of woman is variable, but depends on the face. The type of guy I am doesn’t cut it for collective womanhood. My mission, as the Dateless-Man, is to try to figure out why, where I went wrong, just for my own intellectual satisfaction. After all, it’s too late to do anything to amend it.