Maybe you SHOULD date outside of your, “Type.”
Then one day, Jeremy invited me to a theatre a couple of blocks away from his apartment. My closest office friend wasn’t convinced. She told me that he was going to ask me back to his place, just so he could make a pass at me.
Jeremy did invite me to see his apartment, and he did make a pass. The next day he asked me to marry him. Here’s where I have to admit that I was a commitment-phobe myself. Stalling, I asked if we could have a long engagement. When I frantically called out 10 years, he just shook his head calmly, still smiling that understanding smile. My eyes welled with tears again.
At our wedding, I was so terrified of getting married that I almost fainted. Jeremy kept a steady grip on my elbow. Panicked, I kept sneaking sideways looks at him and thinking desperately, “But he’s not my type!” By then, however, even I knew better—at least in my saner moments.
Jeremy was smart, talented, and interesting. But unlike some of the guys I dated before him, he was also honest, trustworthy, and dependable. When I watched him play with other people’s children, I knew what a wonderful father he would be.
He was calm and steady in a crisis, and I sensed that I would be able to count on him as a husband, no matter what challenges arose. He had a mature understanding of what commitment meant, and he wanted it.
His kindness to me reflected the way he interacted with the rest of the world. He’s the sort of guy who helps little old ladies cross the street and graciously motions other drivers to cut in front of him. Maybe he doesn’t arrive at every dinner party determined to dazzle all the guests; he tends to speak up only if he actually has something to say.
When he does, his views are intelligent and humane, often containing unexpected insights. When he feels comfortable with people, he’s absolutely hilarious. Even after 20 years of knowing him, his sense of humour is as wicked as it is sly.
And despite the difference in our backgrounds, our values have proved compatible with almost everything, including parenting.
Jeremy and I celebrated our eighteenth wedding anniversary last summer; our children are now 17 and 14. We share a life together. My heart still leaps every time I hear his voice on the phone. When I talk to younger friends, they often tell me about men they’ve rejected after one date.
“He’s not my type,” they insist. “There was no chemistry.” If I urge them to keep an open mind, they snort derisively and assure me that they know what they’re talking about. But I don’t believe them—the first night I spent with Jeremy is proof of that. I feel sad for what they might be missing.
Just read the full article — it’s brilliant.
So many sites out there are filled with nothing more than romantic delusions — instead of quiet wisdom about ignoring the hormones that seem to land you with the same problem person every time.
And why do we land with those problems?
Obviously, our conscious minds are attracted to the positives about the persons we are dating — but, strangely they set our worlds on fire more then they ought.
Why? Because they are multiplied by an invisible force we would most like to deny exists.
You see, in the background, our unconscious minds are quietly drawing us towards qualities that remind us of sour and bitter past experiences from our family of origin we have yet to resolve in the hope that, by fixing them, we can heal some part of our heart. It’s the illusion that I can bond to this person (who is the same as the one who hurt me) and, by convincing him or her to love me, I can make it all better.
And, it NEVER works.
While resolving some of those past wounds for real can take decades, that doesn’t mean we have to be alone to avoid a problem partner.
It just means first admitting that our hearts have been lying to us and deciding to use our God-given brains to choose a good person instead.
It just takes redefining boring…