“You should date this guy,” my friend said, forwarding me a screenshot of someone they’d encountered on Tinder. “He’s totally your type.”
I stared at the picture, trying to see what my friend saw. The dude was scrawny, bespectacled, and looked like he’d probably make an obscure Sondheim reference in the same breath as telling you why your favorite Pokémon’s stats sucked. Yep. Definitely my type.
Curious, I took to the internet. “What kind of person do you think I’ll end up with?” I queried my Facebook friends. The answers were very interesting indeed.
“Good sense of humor? Which I guess is subjective, but someone who is good with joking around and not making asshole jokes and stuff. Someone who’s passionate about some hobby/job/pastime. Not necessarily something nerdy, but maybe.” -my friend Dan, who’s known me for a few years
My first girlfriend was an improvisor, and I’ve been drawn to improv weirdos ever since. There is just something about a person who can not only make you laugh, but can do so with a quick wit and a theatrical committedness that dials their jokes up to eleven. Being on a competitive improv team for a few years saddled me with some of the most intense crushes of my life, simply because seeing people be that funny, that fast and that often, is bound to give you Feelingz about at least some of them.
That first girlfriend also cursed me with a permanent attraction to purple fauxhawks, squeaky laughs, and – most crucially and most enduringly – puns. I practiced my punniness to impress her, and now, all these years later, wordplay still makes my ears perk up. If you can outpun me with aplomb, I probably want to kiss you.
“Somebody intelligent, who has a working knowledge of something you’ll develop a passion for after you meet them (you’ll teach them about something you know lots about, like theatre or something, and they’ll teach you about the new interest). Somebody calm/level-headed who isn’t drawn into an argument easily.” -Max, my brother
My first serious boyfriend was a game developer, and ever since that years-long romance, I’ve been hopelessly attracted to other developers of games and apps. If you can ramble my ear off about code, interactive narrative, and the evolution of iOS, I’ll have very little idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll probably wanna listen anyway. Especially if I already think you’re cute.
This proclivity got so bad at one point that I would start flirting with someone and only find out after the fact that they were a game dev. “Of course you are,” I’d say, smacking myself in the forehead. I could not escape the devs!
I was mystified by this for a long time, until a game-dev friend of mine offered a potential explanation. He said I’m attracted to nerds, but especially creative nerds – and software development is where hard-nosed geekiness crosses paths with starry-eyed dreaminess. To make a good game or app, you gotta have both imaginative vision and nerdy know-how. It makes a lot of sense to me now why I’m attracted to people in this career so frequently.
“They will be laugh-out-loud funny, have empathy out the wazoo, be a good listener, and spontaneous. Funny is so important. I think a unique sense of humour is big too, and owning their own quirks.” -my friend Georgia, who’s known me for 10+ years
When pondering whether or not I have a “type,” the phase “charismatic nerd” kept floating through my consciousness. It’s really the most succinct and accurate description of the people I’ve dated. My physical preferences have shifted over time, and usually haven’t been all that important to me – but charisma and nerdiness have endured as crucial qualities in all my crushes.
See, I love the zany zeal that characterizes nerds – their no-chill enthusiasm for whatever captivates them, and the ways that passion can translate to sex and dating. But while I find some nerds’ shyness and awkwardness endearing, it feels too familiar to my dorky heart; I tend to enjoy dating people more outgoing and socially smooth than me, because they pull me out of my introverted shell and take me on adventures.
S. Bear Bergman says you should date “someone who is similar enough to you to make you feel comfortable, but different enough from you to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.” Nerdiness sets me at ease. Charisma sets my nerve endings on fire.
“I mean, they’d need to love BJs and you’d need to have good sex with them, but I feel like as long as they weren’t selfish dickwads in bed, you’d be able to have good sex with them. Like, obviously you have your preferences, but I feel like your sexual priorities are a little more mutable than the things you’d need from their personality. So if they were amazingly funny/supportive/creative and willing to learn (because they’re supportive of your pleasure) then you’d be happy to do the work to make sure y’all were having good sex.” -my best friend Bex
Last year, I was telling my then-boyfriend about a man I’d previously been in love with, and he said, “Why did you fall in love with him? Wasn’t he vanilla?”
It struck me as an odd question, because at the time that all that shit went down, someone’s kink orientation didn’t really enter into my vetting process vis-à-vis crushes. If they were smart, funny, feminist, enthusiastic, and kind, I figured great sex could come later. Or I could settle for pretty-good sex. Or we’d figure it out when we got there. I dunno, man.
These days, though, I lean toward viewing my submissive identity as integral to my attractions. Someone can capture my attention by being a little dominant when otherwise I might’ve skipped over them. Admissions of risk-aware sadism or daddy-esque predilections get my blood pumping. I consider kink compatibility alongside humor, temperament, and lifestyle when deciding how deep to wade into a new crush.
But I still get all swoony for mega-vanilla people sometimes. Hey, you can’t win ’em all.
“Smart. Open-minded. Probably a goof or you’ll get bored, let’s be real.” –Sofi, who is a literal matchmaker for a living
Ultimately, the qualities that draw you to someone, and keep you interested in them, are to some degree ineffable. You can write out what you think is the precise formula of your attractions, but you can always prove yourself wrong.
All my major crushes have shifted my own perceptions of my “type” in some way. I never knew I could love an extrovert until I did; I wasn’t sure I could fall for a bald guy or a short guy or a vegan guy until I did; I’ve dated people older than I thought I ever would, younger, louder, quieter, farther away. They’ve probably all had some kernel of something in common – some clever glimmer, some magnetic tenderness – but it’s hard to see their similarities at a glance. If you put ’em all in a lineup, they’d look like a pretty disparate crew.
I love that about attraction, though. I love never knowing who I’ll want next, and why. It reminds me that life is a wild ride and there’s no use in trying to predict anything. Just enjoy it while you’re on it.
Do you have a “type”? How do you feel about it?