A few years ago, while working as a ski instructor up north at some unnamed resort, I made friends with an awesome guy.

A youth instructor like myself, we spent our days holding up languid 3-year-olds on the bunny slope and chasing screaming kindergarteners down larger hills, hoping against hope no one slammed into a tree in the process.

Being in a high stress (and FREEZING) situation supplied us with an instant bond, and we soon found ourselves skiing together during our free time and discussing our lives on chairlifts.

During out time together, it began to dawn on me that he was everything I had ever looked for in a guy: smart, funny, good with kids, active, gentle, and giving. He liked his parents, wrote music on his off time, and always waited for me whenever I fell into a giant snowdrift.

Basically, he was awesome. The only issue? I wasn’t attracted to him in the slightest.

He wasn’t ugly. It didn’t hurt to look him in the face or anything; he just wasn’t my type. Nothing about him made me jittery or full of butterflies, my heart never jumped when he walked into a room, and those long chairlift rides were never awkward with anticipation.

I didn’t fantasize once about kissing him. Read More »