The Hype Of Type

"What's your type"? she asked.
"Dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin, facial hair, rough around the edges and a husky build" I replied.

Let's get real. If I were being honest I would have said, "unavailable" and left it at that.
Put 500 men in a room, blindfold me and spin me around and I will walk straight up to one man in the room. Mr. Unavailable.

"Hi, what's your name?" I'd ask.

"Mr. Unavailable." he'd reply with barely a whiff of interest.

"Cool. Where does your name come from?"

"It's biblical." he'd say and lean against the wall.

"What does it mean?" I'd reply with curiosity and a step forward.

"It means the type of man that is uninterested." he'd say with indifference and then look around the room as though he's looking for someone else to do.

"Really cool name." I'd reply with enthusiasm.

"Yeah." he'd say looking at his phone.

"Oh my darling. My sweet Mr. Unavailable. Where have you been all my life. I can really see us getting on well. You're so interesting. You have such charisma. I think I might, I think I might love you. I think you might be the perfect man for me. I am totally willing in every way to make you more important. I am ok with you being the center spotlight and I have no problem doing anything and everything I can to make you feel like a god"

"Cool. Whatever. I gotta go." He winks and heads out of the room.

I'm in love.

Now of course I'm being a little funny here. It doesn't go quite like that. There are details involved that would encourage even the smartest woman alive to justify pursuit.
But, wow. Wow. WOW.

I am some piece of work. If you took Mr. dark eyes, dark hair, rugged and hot and served him up on a platter, odds are I wouldn't bite. Odds are I wouldn't even be attracted. Odds are I'm insane.

I only want what I can't have.
I only want the chase.
I only want to ensure that every man on the planet loves me.
If you love me, you're checked off the list and not going to help my cause.
Don't feel bad. We can still be friends. I will love you. I just won't pine for you. I won't need you. I won't eat you like a drug and you can't make me high.

Sick? yes.
Abnormal? Not even a little.

The whole world wants more. "More-ism" runs every country, every marriage, every man, woman and child and it most definitely runs me.

Ah...MORE, my master, my maker, my everything. How you tease. What a little devil you are. You are so very powerful. You make the most vapid man seem like a star and the most inspiring man invisible. Cheap trick I'd say.

Obviously, type is hype. There's no such thing. It's an illusion. People, places and things are only attractive when they offer more than what you have already. And I have a lot. So, you can imagine how irritating my more-ism can be. You can imagine how distracting it may become to need more than yesterday.

So when I whine and say "What's a girl like me got to do to find a loving man?", ignore me.
I have no type. Mr. Unavailbe isn't even my type. I'm not ready. I'm not even close to ready. I'm no where near ready to say goodbye to More.

But I could be ready.
Ready could be around the corner.
Ready could come knocking on my door at any moment and I'll say,
"Hello Ready, Goodbye More"

Oh who am I kidding?