My Type

The Good Doctor. Obvi. If you didn't already get that from this post and this post and that post. To loosely quote Outkast: He's my one and only forevah evah evah. Forevah evah evah? Forevah evah evah. And he's good at lots of things.

But come on, being married and monogamous and all the other m words doesn't mean you can't recognize hotness. Remember Number 9? I'm still looking for that motor skills ho. I will SHOW HER some motor skills.

Hotness comes in strange forms for me. But I have to tread lightly here. Not because I'm worried about being outed for recognizing hotness this week while on employment duties. And telling my friends who were all, "Umm, really? Hmm." That's the least of my concerns. I just don't want to be put in a WWF hold while being tickled within an inch of my life by The Good Doctor's other hand.

And really, is it so wrong to say other people are cute once you are married? I mean, I think honesty is the best policy, so I always tell The Good Doctor when I run across hotness. "I would totally hit that. 9 o'clock. No, MY 9 o'clock."

Kidding. It's much less polite than that.

No really. I do always tell him when I think someone is good looking. I'm a sharer. An over sharer even. But I definitely don't hide things. It's not in my nature. If I do think someone is goooood looking, The Good Doctor is the first to know. And be sent a Google image link of said person if said person is on the Internets.

What I do like is a smartie. Nerd smart. With glasses. I am thinking of cutting all Vitamin A out of The Good Doctor's diet so his eyes will age sooner and he will need glasses. He looks HOTT in glasses. No talking. Just look at me and smile.

And boyish. Not weird 12 year old boy-ish but devil may care boyish. Non-hairy arms and a nice sensible haircut. And short fingernails.

I'm not one for the gruff and grizzled. Although I will make an exception to say Mike Rowe is lovely to look at and listen to. He is a man's man and woman's man all in one manly package.  

And lanky. Some women go for the muscles. Now, I'm not saying if Daniel Craig showed up on my doorstep chins would not drop. But The Situations of the world need not apply. Brain muscles are so much sexier. 

And eye contact. Not stare me down like it's an interrogation. But pleasant, look-me-in-the-eye-not- boobs contact when you're talking to me and saying intelligent interesting things I have not heard before. Who doesn't think that is refreshing and appealing?

Inevitably when I meet people like that who are not wearing the wedding ring, I immediately think, "Why are you not snatched up by some ladyfriend?" And then I think, "Is my gaydar on the fritz? You can not be this cute and not married. Unless you are gay. Hmmmm."

So I told The Good Doctor about all these things I was reminded of and how he had all those things way back in 9th grade, on some nascent level, buried under the forest green "No Fear" hoodie and baggy basketball shorts when he was 6' 5" and 165lbs. Yes, I will dig up that basketball picture of Skeletor and post it here.

Happily I married My Type. I just like to point out to him that are others of his kind out there. In case Number 9 tries to bust out some motor skills in my vicinity.