He Was Everything I Didn't Want And I Dated Him Anyway - Part 1
- Jul 12, 2016
- 4 min read
Part 1: Changing up your type can leave out some good guys. Or maybe they're left out for good reason.
So there I was, minding my own single business, living my own single life, loving my single girl summer. I’d sworn off the dating apps, so there were no potentially creepy dates in sight and it was awesome. But, BUT, there’s always Facebook.
I was 29 and at a family wedding in Florida with my toes in the sand, a book in my hand, and getting appropriately golden and crispy, when bling bling. iPhone alert. What the hell alert is that? Hurricane warning?! I swiped opened my phone and –
“Hey Michele! I’ve got to admit, those are some great family pics!”
And I’ve got to admit, yes, I had just posted some hilarious candid pictures of me, Mom, and Dad at said wedding trying to take a “nice” picture. But instead, the photographer captured my dad trying to get me to play a practical joke on my mom, me giving my dad some serious side eye, and my mother trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, which of course, was never achieved. I’m not surprised they attracted the attention of a young, handsome potential suitor that I knew in college.
Let’s go back, way back, to the beginning of my journey into ungagement when I decided that I wanted to date outside my type. I wanted to explore the new horizons of what was out there, I wanted to swim the deep depths of the dating pool. I’m Italian and I live in Northern New Jersey, so several of my exes were tall…ish, dark, and handsome, with 5 o’clock shadows by noon, big loud families, and plenty of personality. It’s not that I’m necessarily attracted to that type, it’s just, well, I’m Italian and I live in North Jersey, and about 90% of the dating population fits exactly what I described. It’s just the odds. But fucking SHIT if I dated one more guy, ONE MORE GUY, that toed the guido line, I was moving to Wisconsin.
I didn’t know when I was going to start dating again, but from what I’d learned in my dating life, I knew exactly what I wasn’t looking for. I wanted someone local, someone sturdy, and I wanted a partner – not a project. Someone definitely not younger, and not Italian. So how would I describe my new Facebook suitor? Let's see, what shall we call him - the 2 years younger, dark haired, dark eyed, 10am shadow, met him at the gym in college, pasta on Sundays, cooking with grandma, living by the shore, yes THAT shore, young man? Yeah, let's call him Little Pauly Facebook. And yes, I agreed to a date him. Why? What can I say. Nice shoulders.
Well, to be honest, he was more than nice shoulders. He was nice. And funny. And familiar. And to be fair, he didn't quite toe the guido line (well, maybe just a pinky toe). And when we went out to dinner, he did choose a tasty wine and good food. Inner-fatty was very happy I said yes to this date. He was respectful, a perfect gentleman - mama raised him right - and though he was 2 years younger than me, he had a little salt and pepper going on. This guy was well seasoned for 27.
But damn, he was persistent, and in a good way. I told him I was a bit guarded and had built up a sturdy wall. So, he'd text me to let me know he was thinking about me. He called me, an actual phone call, to see how my day was. And yes, I even got Facetimed from Grandma's house on Sunday. I found an unexpected comfort in already knowing him, but knowing he was definitely interested and that he was giving me exactly zero missed signals. He may have fit the mold, but he certainly did not fit my typical type in terms of his determination to make me feel comfortable in dating him. I decided to give Little Pauly Facebook a chance, and considered taking some bricks off the top layer of my wall. I mean, he'd still need to swim to moat, climb the tower, and fight the dragon, and defeat the armed guards. So he still had a lot of work to do. But I thought, really, what have I got to lose here? I had two options - say no, simply because he fit the type I was trying to avoid OR say yes and let this guy who was already vetted try to sweep me off my feet. I mean, Magic Mike wasn't really my type and we all know how well that ended. So, I figured why not, took the plunge, and went for it...
And I swore to myself if he pumped one fist, I'd smack the shit out of him.
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