First boyfriends: So, do you have a type?
About a week ago, I came to accept a tough truth about myself: I have a history of dating nerdy guys.
The ones who played Dungeons and Dragons in high school. Think Sam in "Freaks and Geeks." Think Xander Harris on "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
I've been firmly entrenched in this pattern for the past seven or eight years.
There was the long-term boyfriend who toted his computer around in the car trunk in case his friends wanted to have a LAN party, some sort of pointless gathering where the guys sat in a room and played computer games with each other from individual terminals. There was the one who painted little figurines from the gaming store and arranged them on the top of his dresser. The list of oddities goes on and on.
Not so with my first boyfriend (and just to be clear, I'm not counting 7th grade crushes who gave me stuffed animals from the drug store on Valentine's Day).
No, my first boyfriend was one of the cool kids.
He looked sort of like one of those half-naked posters you see on the walls in Abercrombie and Fitch. Sure he was smart (he went to some ivy league school and is becoming a doctor, I think). But he also was popular, athletic, pretty much a chick-magnet, and what my parents probably thought was a good prospect - a sign that their daughter would go on to have a healthy dating life.
When people talk about having a type, I nod and smile. My chain of geeks - five or so that I dated and at least a handful more who became repeated hook-ups - is too long to deny. Then I wonder where that first boyfriend came from.
And whether he was, in the end, just too cool for me.
Do you have a type? And, if so, how has it worked out for you when you diverged from that pattern?