The other night my friend and I were comparing husbands. I know what you’re thinking, “geez, don’t these gals have anything better to do?” But actually, the topic was quite lively indeed. It’s fascinating to me how women and men can be attracted to a certain type of partner.
For example, my friend’s husband is super cool. He wears trendy clothes, he’s artsy, fit, and interesting. Being a singer myself I gravitate towards musicians and more artsy types too. My husband has even teased me about past boyfriends with skull rings, long hair and tattoos. What can I say? I guess this is in fact “my type”.
Which of course leads me to the question of how did I end up with my Italian husband who wears velvet tracksuits from the 1980’s (no doubt Mama buys these for him), and didn’t even know what an iPod was until just a few years ago?
I think it all boils down to what men usually say, and that is “there are women you date and women you marry” and the same goes for us chicks I guess. Call me old-fashioned, but I still believe in choosing a partner that is stable and reliable. Boring, you bet. Am I truly denying my type and trading it in for stability and reliability or am I just merely balancing the scales? Perhaps my husband is not the coolest cat in the house – the velvet track suit is not helping improve this image much – but that just leaves more room for me to be. He keeps me grounded enough so that I don’t get too full of myself but he also appreciates my need to be free and express myself.
No slight against my long-haired, tattoo’d buddies, but I just can’t picture myself hanging out in Jazz clubs ’til 3 a.m. when I’m 60. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Jazz, and I will surely drag my unsuspecting husband to a club or two on occassion even if he can’t tell the difference between Beyonce and Nina Simone. But when I’m ready to hit the pillow at 2 a.m. I also know he won’t put up much resistance because he is too busy discussing drum lines with the band’s drummer at the bar.