Not my type

I don’t understand why men are so caught up with what their “type” is when it comes to women.

I heard Jonesy and Amanda talking about it on the radio yesterday and my ears pricked up.

They were discussing their former workmate, Bryce Ruthven, who is currently starring on Married at First Sight. Apparently he was honest/mean to the woman he married on the show, Melissa Rawson, and told her she’s not his type.

During Wednesday’s episode Bryce and Melissa had to open something called the “honesty box”. And Melissa asked Bryce: ‘Am I your usual type?’

He responded: ‘It’s a tough question. I’ll be completely honest. Not 100 per cent.

‘I’ve always gone for the blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned kind of girl, and someone that’s, like, usually taller.’

Bryce also confessed to his bride that he probably wouldn’t go up to her in a bar and buy her a drink.

And, not surprisingly, Melissa started to cry.

He then said: ‘But definitely when I first saw you, I was like… “You’re not my type, you have got blonde hair. She’s not ugly,”‘

She’s not ugly. What a charmer.

I think men are generally more hung up on physical appearance when dating than women are. As a gross generalisation, women are more interested in finding someone who is nice to them and makes them laugh.

I remember helping a bloke write his profile for a dating website about seven years ago and the first thing he wanted to mention was that he was looking for someone who was tall.

Tall. Really, that’s the first thing? Why the hell does that even matter?

I told him I thought it would be a turn off for women that it was number one on his list, but he was adamant. Within a few months he was dating his tall woman and they lived happily ever after … Go figure.

But as a rule I reckon you’re .. erm … selling yourself short if you expect potential partners to tick a strict list of boxes.

If I’d been obsessed with finding my type, I would have never given DD a chance. When I was newly single I thought I was looking for someone working in media who was a chatterbox.

Instead I met a quiet scientist who looks nothing like anyone I’ve ever dated before (which admittedly isn’t very many people, but there was a lot of floppy hair involved).

The first things that struck me about DD were his lovely eyes and humour. Whether he looked like my physical “type” wasn’t a factor.

He later admitted I’m not like anyone he’s ever dated before. And that didn’t stop him giving me a chance either.

Bryce is nuts. He risks missing out on finding someone who makes him truly happy, who loves him for the man he is, not the way he looks.

Oh, and I’m sorry there wasn’t a blog post yesterday. I am ensnared in a hell of my own making with workload and ran out of time and inspiration. I was also a bit cross because the builder’s minions came over to render the outside of the house and hosed the deck so liberally that my new carpet got wet and every other crevice got concrete slurry sprayed through it onto my tiles and floorboards.


So I gave myself a mental health day off after I finally finished work and cleaning at 11pm.

Thank god for the weekend. Hope you have a good one.

Song of the day: Foreigner “I want to know what love is”

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