He's Not My Type

I've heard it many times and have said it oft' myself. The idea of even having a "type" is kinda ridiculous when you think about it. Way to throw the baby out with the bathwater! I have an excuse, poor as it may be. I really didn't want to get into a relationship - not casual dating, and definitely not a serious courtship. I liked the freedom I had and wanted to never suffer the misery that is marriage (or at least what I had seen it to be in the lives of many around me). Yeah, I complained about the single life because it's expected. And sometimes even thought about how it would be nice to have someone in my old age. But as long as things were going swimmingly in my professional life, I was quite content in my singleness. So, when people would try to set me up with different guys, without giving them a chance, I would give them a flippant "Oh, he's not my type." Well, God has a sense of humor. If someone had asked me to describe my "type," I probably would have said something to the effect of a musically-inclined military man, with a heart for missions and a disdain for the ipod, ipad, and anything else "i" related. A man, older, stronger, and wiser than myself, with a desire to change the world. Instead, God sent me a man much younger than myself, with a disdain for military life, a love for all things Mac, and an obsession with Bob Dylan. People keep asking me, after all these years of forswearing men, why this guy? It may not seem a likely match, but I see God's fingerprints all over it. He is truly perfect for me in every way. So, for all of you questioners out there, I don't know if I can give you a satisfactory answer via blog, but I will tell you what it is I see when I look at the man I adore.

First off, let me assure you that he is a Christian, who sees eye-to-eye with me on my non-negotiables (namely Sabbath keeping and infant baptism). While those are important to me, they are not the things that swept me off my feet. I suppose there are a lot of things that contributed to this unlikely romance, so let me begin at the beginning. My year in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba probably worked in his favor - a place where compliments flow in as great quantity as the alcohol on that island. I quickly grew accustomed to the pick-up lines and overblown flattery. Mind you, I took it for what it was worth - absolutely nothing. I didn't let it go to my head. I did, however, become hyper-distrustful of men and their thinly-veiled intentions regarding me and any female within view. That being said, my first day back in the States brought me face to face with a sweet, seemingly innocent boy (I say "boy" because he is several years my junior and looks even a bit younger than that when he is clean-shaven). He talked with me, not to get something, but because he was genuinely interested. He looked into my eyes as he spoke and wasn't long before his eyes spoke volumes. We became fast friends, discussing life, religion, philosophy, and politics. We didn't agree on everything, but held common ground on the essentials. Our debates were often lively, rarely heated, and always ended on good terms. We disagree about the exact date that it went from friends to more than just friends, but only by a few days. According to him, it was the night he took me out on our first date (I saw it as dinner and a movie with a friend). Apparently, we "shared a moment" over fajitas. For me, it was the first night I went to his apartment (to cut his hair). After the haircut, he asked me to stay and watch Avatar, a movie I had not seen, despite all the hype. It was during that movie that he reached for my hand. It was electric - I don't know how else to describe it. We had it all... the friendship, the common interests and beliefs, and this touchy-feely thing people call chemistry (whatever it is, we have it!). All of that to say, I am glad I was not limited by a "type" because God sent me the only man able to tear down my walls and win my heart. He is everything I want and nothing I could have imagined. *happy sigh*