Not My Type

DM and I met and started dating when we were very young. 19 to be exact. He was NOT my type. In fact, I don't think I can adequately describe how NOT my type he was. The only criteria he met, in my book, was that he was tall. That's it.

He was a football player. First of all, my high school didn't even have a football team, so I was not the least bit impressed with this fact. In my judgemental, stereotypical, naive way of summing someone up with a mere glance I surmised that his football playerness = my not interestedness. I thought to myself What could we possibly have to talk about? Does he even have the intelligence to form sentences? I wonder how many times he's been hit in the head.... Should I speak extra loudly and slowly to make sure he understands me? Secondly, he was not only a football player, but a lineman. Granted, at the time I had no idea what that meant other than he was very large. And again, not my type.

But, we talked anyway. As it turned out, he could form cohesive sentences. Shocking! (To my unbelievable dismay, I would later learn that he was not only smart enough to communicate effectively but he is one of the smartest people I've ever met. Meaning, he is smarter than I am which, let's face it, is utterly depressing)

That first night, as we talked in the kitchen of a friend's house, a flash came through my mind. I'm going to marry this man. Which was quickly followed by: WHAT?! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. I mean it. No! What is wrong with me? I don't know if I've told you, but he was not my type.

Apparently, "not my type"= "I'm going to spend my life with this person." Who knew?

And the moral of the story?

Don't listen to me.