My mother recently showed me a letter I wrote to her when I was about four, requesting that she upgrade the family typewriter to a word processor, as I had grown tired of constantly changing the ribbon. My point is that I came out of the womb with a knack for typing and do, as a result, consider myself a bit of an expert on "types." This has come up recently in conversations, both real and imagined, so I thought I should share a little of my wealth here.
Most people have a "type" that they are attracted to, whether they will admit it or not. More often than not, the problem with having a "type" is that you limit your own possibilities. Once you meet someone who fits the general physical characteristics you find attractive, you immediately start to work on making the parts (that are not easily seen) also fit.
I used to find myself in situations where I would feel: "You are absolutely perfect for me in every way, except for your personality, hygiene, vices, vocabulary, personal beliefs, etc." The scenario played itself out over and again, until I was able to meet someone, run the entire course of our relationship out very quickly and end it all, in the time it took other people to work up the courage to ask for a first date.
My "type", at this point in life, is anyone with a heartbeat. Dare I use this as a way to determine my future love life? I think not. Hey Baby, What's Your Type? As a pickup line, it has major problems. Though I am morbidly curious about these things. A person's "type" is usually very illuminating, sometimes predictable and more often than not; not me. I say this because I recently asked Mitch if he had a "type" and his reply really hurt my feelings, mostly because I can never be an albino midget amputee, thus never truly fulfilling Mitch's ultimate fantasy.
So, if you are into leather daddy's, muscle queens, latino twinks, or skinny British guys with a lazy eye, please don't tell someone who doesn't fit into those catagories. It will only make them feel inadequate and you look shallow. If you run into your type in a dark alley, by all means, let them know. But until then, let it be your dirty little secret.
Then again, part of my job description is to take confessions. So, if you must tell... Tell me. I promise I won't judge you to your face.