For a long while I was unaware that I even had a type. “Boy is my type” I’d say. I heard Pamela Anderson say it back when she was Pamela Anderson Lee and they still aired new episodes of Bay Watch and I thought it sounded cool – she saved lives on TV it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Anyway, I always had a general sense of what I was attracted to: broad shoulders, scruffy chin, athleticism, Ryan Gosling – the usual. But it wasn’t until the past few years that “my type” fully emerged.
Let me begin with a brief description of myself in high school… Remember how in junior high there were two types of kids? One was kind of chubby and a little bit big for their age and the other was the saddest, scrawniest thing you’d ever seen?
I was the latter until I was about 18, but with huge sunken eyes, braces, and eyeliner with no mascara.
Needless to say I was the pick of the litter in those days, and had to beat the dudes off with a stick.
But it’s no surprise that my type bloomed as late as I did, and now that I’m about three and a half years out of my awkward stage it’s becoming clearer and clearer… My type…
I love them.
I love the fiery armpit hair they have to offer, the one skin tone on this planet that’s paler than mine, and the fact that they freckle in the sun instead of tanning. They always have something else weird going on too like a speech impediment or a short thumb that I find adorable.
Now if you ask me, only three out of five men in my life worth mentioning were honest to God gingers but I guess the other two are grandfathered in on a count of their reddish facial hair and their:
A) freckles, or
B) Irish skin.
Potato, tomato – My mom never lets me live it down…
As a halfling, (they call me strawberry blonde but, in truth, I was a ginger baby)
I feel as though I need to stand up for my people and love them the same as if they weren’t a genetic abnormality. I honestly feel that I’m drawn to them as if fate brought our similar hair colors together. Either that or God really is playing the Simms with us and is purposefully trying to mate me with a pure bread so we make Him more little baby cupids.
Either way, here’s a list of hot gingers I’m throwing your way so you can catch my fire:
And the list goes on my friends… The list goes on…