People spend a lot of their time thinking about these rules of attraction that we seem to think exist. I even spent a few minutes this morning reading a blog post or two on the subject that had been sent my way. It's all interesting stuff, really, but I don't think we know what we're doing. I think, most of the time, we're fish, flopping on the beach, trying desperately to get somewhere remotely resembling the ocean and if we end up in a puddle, we think we've found it. Let me give you my opinion about the laws of attraction: there aren't any. There are too many variables involved in the whole situation to think of anything as definite and permanent and resolute. We are simultaneously evolved and devolved. We are at once mature and immature. We are altogether moral and altogether immoral. There's no charting us. Not well, at least.
I'm no different though. I like to think about what I like. It's an obvious place for one's mind to wander. In all this roaming, I have been able to come to one definite conclusion. I can't tell what kind of women I like based on hair color or figure or height or athleticism or anything like that, but there is one thing I always find myself drawn towards.
I don't mean an obvious brutish strength. She doesn't need to be able to pull a semi-truck with her teeth or anything like that. She just has to be strong. I mean strong willed. Strong of heart. Strong of passion. Strong.
There was this one girl a few years ago. We were just friends, but we'd have the craziest arguments about anything and everything. I knew we would, over and over again, mainly because I started them. I liked to argue with her. I told myself, and anyone who saw it, that I enjoyed challenging her. Making her question her way of thinking. Helping her grow.
Really, I liked that she challenged me.