“Alannah! It’s clear what your type is! Haha!”
“Oh yeah… What is it then?!”
“F**kboy, your type is most definitely f**kboy. Easy.”
Hold on… No, I like guys that are nice, decent people…. Don’t I?
No, surely not… My first love had the most beautiful smile, but he did string me along for years…
Well, then there was dark, tall and handsome, we had some amazing adventures until he stopped replying to my texts….
Hey well my ex-boyfriend was fantastically intelligent and a lot of fun until he took another girl home.
I have always known I like guys in leather jackets with fantastic hair and well if he picked me up on his motorbike, I am as good as sold. But I accepted a long time ago that I will not find a John Bender or James Dean just wandering the streets of Wellington. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen.
Therefore, I gravitated to the rebels, musicians and extroverts of the Wellington night life, the people that look like they just stepped out of a Ramones gig. Unfortunately, that also translates to cocky and self-absorbed men.
Well what am I supposed to do, go after the clean cut dude with the pressed pants and bow-tie who looks like he will be home by 10pm to finish off his uni work for tomorrow. That’s not interesting. I would much rather have one amazing night out with fun, exciting guy that I never see again than be bored out of my mind, playing it safe with Mr Sensible.
Damn… Maybe they may have a point.