“Good afternoon pretty lady. How are you doing?”

What started off as an ordinary commute on an ordinary day became a bit more interesting after I noticed a handsome uniformed man staring intently from the other lane as we waited at a stop light.

“Hi.”

“Are you single?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, how about seeing if we can go out this weekend?”

A horn honked behind me—the light had turned green. By the time we arrived at the next traffic signal, the gentleman had collected my digits and promised to call me that night. I quickly shifted my thoughts back to picking Darius up and starting our dinner, unaware that the quick exchange had started a gradual reversal of my ‘single mother’ status by introducing me to my future husband, Darius’ future stepfather and the future daughters I never thought I would have.

Why? Because, well…at first glance, Calvin wasn’t exactly “my type.” At some point in our single lives, most of us claim to have one. He or she has to be a certain height, have a particular type of body frame and a display a set of likes, dislikes and other traits to qualify as a potential partner.

Usually, as we age and experience more, hopefully some of the more surface-level preferences are replaced with more substantial concerns. Green eyes and rock-hard abs might be lovely to behold, but if they’re attached to a man who’s allergic to steady employment, how much of an asset could they possibly be? And if all she needs to be is a brunette “brickhouse,” can those eye-pleasing advantages truly warm the heart or soothe the soul? It seems that people get way too hung up on the outside without realizing it’s what’s inside of that mate with whom you build your life that is important.

But back to that aforementioned ‘type’: when I was single, I gravitated to the long, lean guys—men that were my shade of brown or darker who had to lean down half a foot for that kiss goodnight (See: actor Idris Elba). The man I met that fateful January evening didn’t fit the mold per se, but Calvin was still a handsome, hard-working and chivalrous man that I could have missed out on had I allowed the outer ‘packaging’ to interfere with the greater gifts he offered within.

Am I advocating throwing standards to the wayside and tolerating anyone in a 50-mile radius? Of course not, especially since we do have to spend quality time with our choice of mate and that usually involves cuddling and face time.

But someone looking good to you and actually being good for you can end up being two different things, a truth that continues to elude my good friend “Mindy.” When it comes to men, anyone stepping to her for a date must be paid, ripped, suited and booted. And even after meeting that criteria, if he’s not a fly, young pretty boy, it’s a wrap.

Guess how long it’s been since she’s had a date?

There are times in life where we must draw the line and refuse to compromise: how we’re treated, how our children are raised and what we spend time and money on, for example. But when it comes to living day-to-day with others, rigidity can make the already-slim pickings out there practically non-existent. And if you haven’t been cast to appear on the next season’s The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, who needs that?

It’s like being chilly in the wintertime because you dislike the coat pattern. What’s a better option, appreciating the warmth it offers you or suffering out there in the cold?