I used to be a bar hound. I'd club at the drop of a hat.
I'd walk in and check out the people there, see if I wanted to get to know anyone. It'd go something like this:
- I prefer a younger guy to an older guy. So that would eliminate about half the people in the bar from even being looked at. That's + - 5 years of my own age (less when I was younger)
- I don't like tall people either. So, another 15 % or so.
- Dark skin? Turn on. Too dark? Turn off. Too light? Bleah. Another 25% gone.
- Heavy? By like, even a few pounds? GTFO.
- HAIRY? G.T.F.O. my god, eww.
- Dancing? I don't dance. So go away.
By the end of the night, I'd be down to, uh, me. Which was boring, so I'd get mad and leave (nobody said it made sense).
When I was 30, a guy moved into the house I was renting and we hit it off as friends. Within a year, we were a couple. He was younger than me by about 6 years, carried a few pounds more than he should have, hairy, and not the sharpest tool in the shed. Funny, funny guy. I had a tiny, tiny physical attraction to him, but not much. It was enough, because I truly wanted to make him happy, and make his eyes roll back in his head. We lasted about 5 years, and are still friends today (I'm his crack whore and he's my Cleveland bitch).
Looks are important, but being shallow is even more important, because it will leave you staring at your empty passenger seat on the way home from the bar. It's all in what you want.