One Look at Your Exes Will Tell You Your Type

Celebrity crush
Janelle hearts Idris
If you rounded up all of my former boyfriends and even guys who’ve been the subject of many a doodle on my notebook covers and have had their last names tacked onto mine (just to see how it would sound), they would have some pretty glaring commonalities. I definitely have a type. I love big boys.

Not all flabby and Rick Ross-ish, but kind of like football players who haven’t been to the gym in a hot minute. Tummies are cute to me, as long as there’s some swagger accessorizing them. Please note that what I’m describing here is not a beer gut on a regular-sized man who just hasn’t done a crunch since the Clinton administration. That ain’t it. But a dude who’s sturdy? Awww shucks.

The Boyfriend is the smallest out of the Janelle Harris Line, but he’s still got a little thickness to him. I collected teddy bears back in high school and now that I’m a grown lady, I guess I just switched to the human version.

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That’s not it for the typicals of a Janelle crush. I also tend to like chocolate-complexioned cuties who are city boys. I’ve never had a BF who wasn’t from a major metropolis — I guess that adds to their swag factor. One was from D.C., another from Brooklyn, and my boo now is from Philly. They’ve also all been smart alecky and funny.

But most importantly, I like men’s men. If a dude is more coiffed, fluffed, and groomed than I am, it makes me nervous. At no point should your man be prettier than you are or spend more time in the mirror than you do. And getting manis and pedis together? That’s just yikes.  

I only have a few celebrity crushes, but interestingly enough, they don’t look anything like the guys I swoon over in real life. They don’t have any commonalities, except that they’re all fine and they all have money — again, unlike my real-life guys. Common? Mmm. Dennis Haysbert? Mmm. Will Smith? Mmm. Hines Ward? Mmm. And the crème de la crème, the marmalade on my biscuit, the jelly in my doughnut, the dollop of whipped cream on my bowl of Jell-O ... Idris Elba. Glory.

Let me tell y’all something: I am a professional journalist and carry myself as such at all times. I’ve waded through seas of groupies to interview rappers on tour buses after concerts, worked red carpets with celebrities and athletes coming through all buffed and shined and showroom-ready, chatted with some of the most crushable dudes you can think of. But that doggone Idris Elba would melt me like sugar in a glass of Kool-Aid before I even got my first question answered. I just can’t. I’m not ready.

Shoot, I got all sidetracked and forgot what the heck I was even talking about.

Types. I was talking about types. The thing about them is while it’s cool to have a specific kind of man that you already know you’re attracted to, if you’re single, you might have to cast your net a little more broadly in order to snag a good catch. Types can be limiting and box you in to the search for one kind of man.

Heck, I love Mary Janes and stilettos but I’m willing to buy a cute pair of gladiator sandals or Nikes from time to time, you know what I mean? So long as your type isn’t restricting you from seeing the wonderful potential in guys outside of that formula, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having one.  

Even though The Boyfriend bears similar physical characteristics of all of my exes, he’s nothing like them personality wise. So much so that when we went out for the first time, I didn’t think we were going to be anything more than friends and fellow alums, since we went to college together. He was so nice and straight-laced — he is an accountant — and I’m used to troublemakers who give a little, sometimes a lot, of bad boy pushback.

But my best friend continuously coached me: “Swagger doesn’t pay the bills and swagger doesn’t buy engagement rings.” When I got past his lack of in-your-face street flavor, I realized that he does have it. Just in his own way. Ain’t nothing more swaggerful than having a man who can balance my checkbook, crunch the numbers on my business expenses, and do my taxes once a year. I had to grow up and my type had to grow up with me. And now that it has, that’s as sexy to me as my bad boy fanaticism once was.

Do you have a type or a preference?



Image via theogeo/Flickr

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