This is going to be a relatively short post from me.
Every girl has a certain standard she sets for her future boyfriend or husband. Don’t lie, because we all do.
I am no different. My ideal is a guy who is taller than me, wiser than me, loves me, has small eyes and fair skin, has a low voice, broad shoulders and a very boyish hairstyle. For his hair, I am horribly particular. He better have black hair with a fringe that parts to one side. It better not cover his eyes though! As for the back, it would be gelled into a soft spike. Only with Gatsby.
That’s not the end of it though. I’d also like him to be able to play the piano, own a chocolate factory, bake awesome cookies, buy me a Jubeat machine and be able to dance like a K-Pop idol.
Times like these, I am so sure I’m dying a virgin. A very superficial one at that. But hey, it’s not like I’m asking for rock hard abs and bulging biceps.
But this is all in the past. I have since matured and lowered my standards to level: Average human being.
I am actually writing this entry because recently, someone asked me if I had someone I liked. Being the shy girl that I am
COUGH, I swiftly changed the topic and asked her what kind of guys she liked. Hence my elaborate description above. I managed to successfully dodge the question too. However, this got me thinking. Of course I have someone I like. Like as in like-like. Like as in if-I-ever-told-him-how-I-felt-he-would-run-screaming-into-the-mountains kind of like. I wouldn’t say it was a terrible feeling though it is nevertheless, painful to keep inside.
To be honest, I used to like boys with the typical Amerian boy feel. Courtesy of the many princess diaries movies and endless chick flicks I watch when growing up. Comparing that to now, I realized that the guy I like, is actually far from the standard I had set.
In fact, he was totally opposite. Opposite in a sense that he was Asian. DON’T JUDGE ME. Let me explain myself.
Since I grew up watching American movies and reading romance about teenagers in highschool (you catch my drift), I always had this wild fantasy of meeting a perfect prince charming (because prince charmings’ are always so cliche-ly- white) and running away into the sunset with him. OKNOWSTOPLAUGHING. I swear, my ambition at one point of time was to marry a rich Caucasian husband and live off his riches for the rest of my life. Sadly, I’d be called a Sarong Party Girl, which is basically a girl who only dates Caucasians. I know. What a slutty ambition right? Not to fear, my wild imagination was soon vaporized when I started watching Desperate Housewives, kindly censored by my Aunt.
Lying; cheating bastards.
That was just to humor you. Back to the point.
The thing is, after all I have planned out for my future significant other, I fell for someone way below it. I say “way below” because now that I think about it, the only guy that came close to my standards was Edward Cullen. He isn’t real and I don’t even like him. That’s how ridiculous my standards were.
Well if it wasn’t the looks then what was it?
Personality. To me, I’d rather date a guy who is totally average. He could be a guy whom girls would consider… I don’t know. 5th on their list of who to hit on? Nevermind that.
He could have features normal girls would never come to love but tolerate and you know what? Screw that, because he’s got a great personality. At least the guy I like has. Humph.
I’m not taking it to extremes for all that. I am most definitely not going to marry myself to some random hobo on the street even if he’s got the heart of the archangel of heaven. (I’m sure God has good taste in looks anyway.) What I’m trying to say is, a good personality significantly lowers a girl’s standard in a boy. Of course the usual rules still apply, no cheating, always hold the door and most importantly, respect her like you would yourself. Unless the guy is being abused. Get yourself some help honey.
For anyone who may be wondering how much I like this guy, here’s a little example.
If I was on Facebook and a guy caught my eye, I could stalk him the whole day and stare at his pictures. The pictures could make me smile, it could even make me laugh. But in the end, it is still him who I go to sleep thinking of. He’ll always be in my prayers and he is always the one I wake up thinking of. Sounds very mushy, I know. But that’s only a fraction of what I feel! And it’s a glorious feeling; loving someone.
To end the post, I’d like to quote what my neighbor always says when she sees a hot K-pop idol.
” Look at that guy. He’s hot. We’re going to have gorgeous babies.”