Having “a type”
A few months ago I took someone for drinks at a tiki bar in Milwaukee. I think the bar was actually her suggestion, but we went together. I bought her a cocktail made with lavender. This was the first time we’d ever hung out together, and during our conversation she tried to convince me I had a “type.” I remember blinking–who did this girl think she was? trying to tell me I had a type and some bullshit. She doesn’t know me! I remember countering her claim (while scowling, I’m sure) with something like, “welll…the person doesn’t really matter really matter, as long as there’s a good connection blah blah blah.” I also remember saying something cliché like, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea…just think of all the people out there you might connect with.” She disagreed with me. I checked out her legs.
Listen. I’m not saying she was right. All I’m saying is I think I have a type. And I don’t think there are plenty of fish in the sea.
