Oh baby you, you say (s)he’s just a friend.

5 Dec

Most women I know have kissed their fair share of frogs. Hell, men have been just as unfortunate except I think they call them chickens instead of frogs (but we’ll stick to calling them all frogs for today’s story lol). Whatever we call them, the journey to finding ones true blue can be daunting; a road strewn with glass bottles and trash on a somewhat impossible to navigate obstacle course.  The journey to finding ones prince(ss) charming may have resulted in catching warts from one frog, or stuck in a pond across town isolated from their friends and families with yet another, or even finding their frog gallivanting with another princess (or frog..lol). Hell, they may have even found what they thought was a good frog but all the frog wanted to do was hop from lily pad to lily pad “enjoying their froggy bachelorhood” instead of kissing, turning into a prince and manning the castle like a damn adult.

You know what this says to me, maybe we should stop entertaining so many damn frogs!

Okay, here is the analogy free version. Everyone has a “type”. Tall, dark, handsome. Short, with a few extra pounds and cuddly. Athletic, nerdy, jockey, geeky, slender. Whatever the type, you gravitate to it. If we all look back at all the people we’ve dated, I’m sure we can find a bunch of similarities.

Looking at my own romantic past, I can’t say that my “type” was really focused on physical characteristics (though there are some similarities there) but more so character traits. Successful, fiscally responsible, gainfully employed, driven, and ambitious among other things. I can clearly see that growing up without the security I craved attracted me to a very distinct individual. Not having security became the thing I craved from a partner. Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that “type” of man but seeing as though all the guys I have seriously dated were commitment phoebes I have to ask myself, “Self, maybe you need a new type”. Or at the least, fine tune my list.

janet-jackson-and-jermaine-dupri

Now, you’ve heard me say several times that 99% of the people you date won’t be the one. Suffice it to say the smaller your pool the more difficult it will be for you to find someone who you can live happily ever after with. So how does one widen their pool of options? Well, start by reevaluating what’s truly important.

Notice, I didn’t say LOWER your standards. Now that would be ridiculous. Standards are put in a place for a reason. And I’ll assume that if we’re all adults that we have a grasp of what is a must have (employed) vs a like to have (CEO or C-Suite executive or better). But if most of the people you meet end up in the friend zone with the only evaluation being based on the color of their skin, their height, their weight or their checkbook balance, then you’re doing yourself a GRAVE disservice.

Recently I had a convo with a guy friend who told me that he knew my type. Apparently he believed my type is African-American, Tall, Muscular and the exact same age as me. Now, I don’t negate that sounds pretty damn good to me but it also sounds shallow as hell! (If I sound that shallow, please let me know so I can make some necessary adjustments.) Not that I don’t want a man who makes me want to “Ring the Alarm” when I lay eyes on him, but a fine man does not a good man make.

What’s important to me is having a friend to talk to about/endure life’s curve balls with. A lover to lay it on me when I’m feeling frisky and caress me when I need to feel an intimate human connection. A confidante who will share their secrets and take mine to the grave with them. And a partner who will hold me up when I’m down and allow me to do that same. I don’t want an ego I want maturity, integrity, chemistry and compatibility. You can earn all the finer things in life. You can’t earn character.

2013 was an eye opening year for me for so many reasons. I loved, I lost and I learned. I grew and flourished and shone brighter than even my own expectations. I’m smarter, wiser and I’m ready for my happily ever after. And with that knowledge it looks like my ”friend zone” pool got smaller but my dating pool just got bigger! SCORE!

friendzone

HAPPY FISHING,

The Mistress of All Things Fabulust

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