I stumbled upon an old blog of mine the other day, and, needless to say, like most things that happened more than 10 minutes ago, it was embarrassing, especially when I read the part about The Ideal Boyfriend.
I was just out of college, a fresh-faced 22 year old ready to take on the world like a pre-tailgate kegstand, and I knew so much about men. I was convinced that I knew everything that I could possibly know. Despite having slept with like, very few people, ever, and having only had two boyfriends in my entire life, I knew what men were like, and I knew what they wanted and I knew what I wanted, said my highly embarrassing old blog.
I wanted a man who wore polo shirts and smelled like a fragrance counter. I wanted a man who knew about football and who attended Catholic mass on a weekly basis and who got good grades in school. I wanted a man who wore baseball caps and who was kind to children and who told me I was pretty. That's basically it. We'd meet and we'd date for 2 years and we'd get engaged and I'd be married by like 25 and rolling out the infants by 28.
It was so confusing to read that, considering what I wanted then and what I've ended up looking for now- a man who reads books and can discuss liberal politics without being a big dick about it. A man who makes fun of me who doesn't get all butthurt when I respond in kind. An atheist who doesn't wear pants that are too short or get legitimately depressed after NFL games (college games: fine.). Someone who occasionally will take me somewhere that requires me to wear a nice dress. Someone who likes museums and who is sexually experienced enough that I don't have to be all coachy about it. My god. If I'd latched onto the partner I wanted when I was 22, I'd be divorced by now and I'd probably still have those ill-advised blonde highlights and two kids with Irish-Catholic names.
Thinking about what I looked for then and contrasting it with what I look for now made me realize how much I've changed since I left college and how much almost everyone changes in their twenties. It's kind of amazing, really.
How about you, readers? Have you ever stumbled across an old blog and felt weirded out by your former romantic preferences? How have your tastes changed as you've matured?
(And a final note: you know what's embarrassing? Old diaries. If you have them and you're not Sylvia Plath, I'd advise you to throw them away or delete them from the internet and never speak of them again.)