The first boy I ever fell in love with was a classmate with brilliant blonde hair and blue eyes. We were very young, not even teenagers yet, but my feelings were incredibly powerful.
All of my life since, when I see a man with similar characteristics something deep inside myself triggers. I guess I could call that a preference. If somebody asked me if I had a physical “type,” and if I felt like being totally honest, then blonde hair and blue eyes would have to come into the mix.
The few men I have fallen in love with over the course of my life have never matched that type. I’ve never had a blonde, blue-eyed partner. Yet I have loved deeply.
If I had not been open to falling in love with men outside my “type,” I would have missed out on so much love and joy.
Not to overshare, but I suppose that if I ever went to a porn site (cough cough), I might be drawn to videos of athletic men with blonde hair and blue eyes.
But that’s so superficial. Real men are infinitely more attractive and wonderful than erotic images. If I meet and develop a crush on or fall in love with a guy, the color of his hair and eyes stop mattering.
And by extension, of course, so does his race. That thrill of genuine erotic connection and human bonding is so much more important than surface physical characteristics.
I guess what I mean to say is, if I tried to restrict myself to a physical preference I admit exists, I would be impoverishing myself to possibility.
I think about that when I see guys on dating apps announcing their impoverishment.