When I finally thought that I found my type in the opposite sex, I couldn’t wait to get the picture perfect guy that I imagined. Pretty boy without a doubt, light skinned and wavy haired. Nice hazel eyes. That’s what I always fathomed him to be. Someone with a built body and aggressive personality. Let’s not forget a guy that cared about his looks. Presented him self like a gentleman. A guy that I could stare at all day just to admire the texture of his creamy light brown skin.



I dreamed and dreamed until one day, I finally got my shot at one. Exactly how I pictured him. Light with the cute hair and all. And the hazel eyes that melted me away. We made a cute pair of course. Why wouldn’t we? He dressed right, ladies tried to flirt with him left and right. Behind my back sneaking him their phone numbers. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.



But it’s just so weird. As I’m sitting here on my living room stroking my husband’s straight hair as he lays his head upon my chest, I’m realizing that all that dreaming was for nothing. I thought I’d get this Shamar Moore look a like. At least in my dreams, he’d be half of what Mr. Moore is. Turns out, I was a hundred percent wrong. Not to say that I can’t fantasize about my perfect guy. It’s just that there wouldn’t be a point to it seeing as I have perfect guy sitting right here with me watching his favorite team kick butt on the television screen. His dark chocolate complexion and heavily browned eyes meant the world to me. I love him! He might not be the guy I grew up picturing, but he’s the guy that kisses me goodnight everyday and makes sure I’m perfectly happy. But fate has odd and mysterious ways of working. And if that light-skinned cutie and I were meant to be, then I wouldn’t be stroking my silky haired, and Hershey bar complexion husbands hair.