my girlfriends and i have been talking of late about the type of men we're interested in.
types, really. because who can pick just one?
i saw a man getting off the subway yesterday: he was tall, lean, and had a lovely dark beard. and that was it. somedays those are the only three things i need.
other days i want a man with dark, deep-set eyes and strong hands.
and then there's the type from texas (or somewhere far south of the northeast). the type who wears pastels and button-up polos. who keeps his hair ever-so-slightly too long and combs it to the side when it need not be. these were the guys i was in love with in high school (and oh there were a few of them). it's a particular type for sure. and i understand the type--it's cultural. my roommate amanda does not, but she's from chicago.
when i visited my brother in boston a few weeks ago i snapped a photo of the innards of his closet. 1. because it made me laugh. and 2. because i knew it would come in handy at some point for some thing.
last night i pulled it out. offered it up to amanda as explanation. said, amanda, this is what a southern boy's closet looks like (keep in mind my brother spent many of his formative years in virginia).
one look at a closet like this and you know, this is a guy who'll take a girl with pearl-stud earrings over a girl with diamonds any day of the week.
it's what we know--what molds and forms us that later proves to be the thing we're attracted to. (or one type, at least).