To Each His Own, Right?

I was driving home from work the other day, and I noticed this cute guy walking down the street. I don't normally notice guys, but he was so cute I actually checked him out in the rear-view mirror. And then I realized that, empirically, this guy was not good looking. By most definitions, in fact, he would fall somewhere on the continuum between "plain" (at best) and "ugly" (at worst), depending how picky you are.

My husband, it must be said, is a handsome man. This guy on the street would, it is fair to say, have an inferiority complex next to Scott. But --- if I wasn't in love with and married to my husband --- if you put the two of them side by side, I'd probably go for the ugly guy. The truth is, I'm not attracted to my husband because he's tall and good looking, but despite these things.

That's just my type. I only go for guys who look like caricatures, like character actors, like French philosophers. I like a man who looks tired, bone weary, with deep lines in his care-worn face. I always fall for the guy who looks like he needs a hot meal, a soft bed, and someone to hear his confession. Like a torch singer, I need a man who needs a woman to save him from himself.

Scott is none of these things, but when I met him his hair was a little too long and he dazzled me with theoretical physics and jade-green eyes. In other words, I was duped.

Sure, it's all worked out for the best, and my new type is a hyper-intelligent clever-boots with a passion for bluegrass and Brit Pop.

But all you "ugly" guys? I'll still be looking.