I accepted a friend request I probably shouldn’t have.

The timing of its arrival was odd, since I broke up with him on a Valentine’s Day 20-some years ago.

Most years, I blame my lack of good Valentine’s Days on that unfortunately timed breakup. Which was accelerated by my being stuck at work till near-midnight and me not having anything resembling restraint toward this guy who nicely changed the dinner reservation THREE TIMES so he could take me out when I was finally free.

But being back in contact has brought it all back, why separate ways were the only ways.

I worry about decisions before I make them. And by worry, I mean agonize. So that when I make them, I am good. No regrets. So I have never thought about it since. Until now.

I got to thinking about why the universe brought us together in the first place. What lesson was I to learn, other than that I really don’t like to date men all that much? (I get that it’s “certain men.” Or ones with master’s degrees from my alma mater. Or anyone else who has stolen my air from the room. Which is all of them.)

It got me to thinking about a friend who says he has a type. Skinny, exotic-looking chicks are his thing.

But what’s my type?

This guy was probably a good example. Tall — over 6 feet. Sagittarius, give or take a few days. Dark hair. Democrat all the damn way. (And Dems do it better. I have irrefutable proof.) And apparently men who get their undergrad at the same school because I would go on to meet THAT person a couple years later.

And THAT person? Ruined me for the rest. I mean, not on purpose. But I know to beware tall, dark and handsome Democrats who spent four years in Morgantown, W.Va.

I got to thinking about types when it came to people to hire. You know, with suitors right at your door and you’re like, hmm, never went out with this kind. I could experiment or I can go back to what I know “works.”

Wish I had a few more princes to pick from. I’m sure my type is out there somewhere. And he’ll take my breath away, like the others did.

And maybe there’s happiness to be found with more of an archetype, as it were, than a type. (I know they aren’t antonyms. But I feel like I have to say it because America’s IQ is dropping and I’m afraid Cheeto Benito will have all the dictionaries and literature burned. Then us pink-hatted witches are next.)

In any event, I am getting the idea I am going to be alone for a while longer during the day and unfortunately the night. But I’d be lying if I said I minded all the space, glorious space. And that unquestionably started 20 years ago when I wanted (and eventually, after multiple tries, got) my freedom … and only once wanted to let it go.

As we all know, that didn’t stick.

And if anything were truly meant to be, I think the massive amount of space between me and everyone else is it.

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