When it comes to men you could say that I’m rather picky. I don’t care about age, about profession, about wealth. You can be tall, short, funny, arty, serious, eccentric and I’ll embrace it all. However, when it comes to looks I’m completely shallow. I like Indian Asian guys, Latino’s, and Mediterranean looks only. I don’t go near a white guy, especially if he’s British, and even if he’s of model looks I still won’t feel the flutter. It’s not anything specific, but on a deep and primeval level I have no lust for guys that don’t fall into my required categories. And I’ve tried, I’ve dated a couple of white guys, but to no avail. There is definitely no firework there and it fizzle’s out within only a few dates…..if that.
However, this checklist of required points can be a major downfall. Other than the ethnicity requirement I only go for very buff guys, men that actually get off their arses and go to the gym, pack on the pounds of muscle, and keep me happy. They also have to a have a high libido and no attitude. They can’t be too muscled, or too thin. They have to be able to laugh at themselves. And, when it comes to the sack, I truly believe if there aren’t fireworks to start with there’s not even any point. But, going on a date with all these prerequisites in my mind, it is far too easy to get stuck in the head, rather than actually following the heart for once.
Mr S.A. is a case in point. He’s asian, one box ticked. Has a high libido, two boxes ticked. However, he’s not one to be pounding weights down the gym; he’s small, slight, and lean instead of bouncing with muscles. Initially, as you may have read, I was far from interested. As with all my other dates he seemed a very nice, genuine guy who was destined to be a friend rather than a lover. But judging him by my head was wrong, and after an emotional night out I realised just how much my heart had got involved, even though my head was screaming not to.
Today he left for home, forever, leaving me in a slightly sad and sombre mood after six weeks of romance. In truth I doubt I’ll see him ever again, and even though we’re connected on Facebook, a social networking relationship is possibly the worst idea of all time. Though, upon first meeting him there was no spark, it seems that this time my heart won out. And after 49 days, as he flies off for a new life in South Africa, I hope my head has realised that listening to my heart once in a while is a damn good idea.