Not my type.

When I lived in Tokyo, it was the little old Japanese ladies at church who used to ask me what type of guy I was interested in. This question puzzled me. It didn’t seem beneficial to restrict myself to only certain types of guys. I thought it better to cast a wide net of interest. It made sense numerically: the more guys I could be potentially interested in, the larger the pool from which I could find the right one. Besides, there seemed to be plenty of love stories about people who never imagined they’d end up with the person they were with. Or people attracted to someone who is their “opposite,” whatever that means. Or fixed up on a blind date by someone else—it’s as if they didn’t even choose their mate at all! How could I possibly settle on mere categories to determine the love of my life?

This vagueness wasn’t acceptable to the Japanese ladies. Isn’t there a particular phenotype or ethnicity that interests me? Did I need a man who is a Christian? The very thought of narrowing down my options seemed crass and unfair. All men are special in their own way! Any man who crossed my path was a potential suitor; I thought it was my business to discover what was special about him. “I don’t like his shoes, but how important are shoes, anyway?” “He has tattoos on his face, but he’s probably nice to his mother.” “He looks kinda old/kinda young, but I can overcome that.” “He has great hair, even if he has terrible taste in clothing.”

Any guy could be fixed up to be the right guy for me; in the same way, I could adapt to fit any guy. This made the possibilities endless! Is it possible to quantify love? I could fall in love with anybody, just as anybody could fall in love with me. Is he a business-type who wears nice suits? Well, I also like to dress nice and be a professional. Is he casual and laid back? I like that, too. Does he like music? That’s the kind I like, as well!

I actually prided myself on my ability to see romantic possibilities even in men who weren’t interesting to me. It made me feel holy and egalitarian. Maybe this is how Jesus would date, if Jesus were to do such a thing. Being open to wherever God would lead me, I thought my attitude was entirely laudable. Surely this is the kind of faithful behavior God would reward—I would be obedient, and I would get the life I wanted, with the perfect man, whoever he is.

So every step in public was a step into my destiny, I thought. The man of my dreams could be anywhere: walking down the street, waiting in line at the airport, shopping at the supermarket, behind the counter at the convenience store. I was perpetually readying myself, constantly posing and trying to look great so I could catch his eye, whoever he is. I was still old-fashioned, after all—I wanted to be chased down by this amazing man. And I had to be ready to fit him, since he could be anybody—he could be right under my nose and I didn’t even know it. This love could change my life immediately, so I couldn’t really commit to long-term future plans, since I’d need to be ready to get married, to whoever he is.

Looking around to find him, my head swiveling around and around like a woman desperately in need of an exorcist, I was dizzy. And exhausted. The possibilities were endless, but my patience was not. “Where is he? Why hasn’t he showed up yet?” I wondered.

Not having a "type" was the least of my problems.