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What's Your Type? (The Hot Guy Post.)

{Warning: Fluffy Post Ahead. Proceed at your own intellectual risk.}

Once upon a time, I had a Type. You know, a list of qualities, attributes (light-haired, light-eyes, athletic) and a ready set of examples to illustrate my Type in the event someone was confused. Brad Pitt was always an easy way to get across to my friends the kind of creature I meant. Ah, yes, Brad Pitt. How original, no?

I remember walking around the world and noticing boys and men and deciding whether they fit the bill and saying things like: He's really cute, but he is not my type. Or: He's totally my type, but eh. I remember having long talks with friends about this topic. I went to Cannes, France the summer between high school and college with two good friends and I recall sitting on a sun-soaked balcony, eating baguettes and butter and talking all about this stuff. It felt important, critical.

I remember walking my college campus, eyes wide, noticing my fellow students, putting some of them on my Cute Boy List. I don't think I called it this, and I'd be embarrassed if I did, but that was the point. I made a mental list of the guys I thought were, well, cute. And, yes, I kissed a few of them in time. Go me.

When I met Husband, yes in a bar, I immediately thought: Wow. He's handsome. So my type. Husband has light brown hair, blue eyes, is tall and athletic and kind. Yes, my Type. Fast forward ten years and here we are, sitting squarely in our good life, a life full of little girls and big dreams, a life full of happy exhaustion. A busy life wherein I swig coffee and race around and write words and hold tiny hands and think very little about cute boys.

I don't think I have even thought of the expression My Type in years. Maybe it is no longer relevant, a linguistic relic of unencumbered youth, times past. Maybe because I'm married, it's no longer appropriate to talk about attractive men, and whether they are indeed crushworthy? Maybe. I don't think so though.

If you were to ask me who I think is cute in the world (other than the man I adore and deeply), I would be a bit stumped. There would be no list to pull from. I would fumble around and I would probably say it, still say it: Brad Pitt. And, yes, he is not a bad-looking man. His six kids seemed to have aged him a bit, but I find that real and sexy. Anyway, the point is, the superficial but maybe not totally superficial point is, that I am not even aware of particularly hot and famous men. What gives?

Okay. It is 6:07am and time is of the essence and I must skedaddle from Starbucks and run back to my guy and and my girls, but I swear there is something interesting in this odd and frivolous musing and I apologize that I have yet to articulate clearly just what that is. I guess it's time to punt to you guys and ask:

Did you once have a Type? Do you still have a Type? Is your husband/wife/partner your Type? If you are in a committed relationship and/or are raising a family, do you still have harmless crushes on physically or intellectually beautiful people? Who are some of the hottest guys (and girls) out there? No rules here - It can be the UPS man, that chipper barista, your kid's coach, or the hideous charmer that is Brad Pitt. Anything goes.

Patton @ The Plaza

The Rules of Inheritance