The elusive and mysterious “perfect guy.” He’s different to every girl, and what one woman is chasing and swooning after, another will have little to no interest in. What this dream man consists of is one of the most subjective ideologies in existence, and it’s fascinating how what one woman can find desirable and attractive, can be so off-putting and fallacious to another. I’ve seen it over and over again: as soon as you think you’ve got a pretty good grip on what “type” of guy your friend is into, they’ll go after someone who is the total opposite and throw you for a loop. I can’t tell you how many times this has happened to me; beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. So what do I consider beautiful and attractive? What makes up my perfect man? It’s changed and transformed dramatically over time, but I think I’ve finally realized what I want and exactly what I’m looking for.

I spent my childhood imagining my dream guy riding in on a white horse to save me and make me his princess, and I’ve wondered what magnificent land he would be the prince of. I would be the damsel in distress, and he would be my knight in shining armor, coming to rescue me and save the day -- because Heaven knows I needed him. I wondered if he’d kiss me and wake me up like "Sleeping Beauty" or if he’d bring me back to life with true love’s kiss like "Snow White." I pictured the palace in a frenzy as he sent his knights to scour the kingdom, looking for the girl who had stolen his heart and whom he could envision as a future queen by his side. I imagined our happy every after together as he discovered me to be the girl whose foot fit the mysterious glass slipper, the girl who to others had seemed so ordinary but to him, was a diamond in the rough. I wondered what the name of his noble steed would be, what dress the Queen would pick out for me to marry her son in, and if my new father-in-law, the King, would approve of me as the woman for his heir. I envisioned raising our children in the palace, watching them grow up to be impressive human beings. I dreamt of nights spent snuggled on the couch all together as a happy, royal family- the murmurs of laughter, language and love drifting and floating down our enormous castle halls.

In elementary school, my prince changed into the boy who used to chase me around the playground at recess. As my dream boy, he became the guy who pulled my hair and who would say stupid, mean things to me, but whose approval I craved anyway. He was the one who would tease me and taunt me in front of his friends, but who would be kind and gentle and sweet when it was just us, running around together at the school dance while Taylor Swift played in the background. Yup, he was the little goober that sent me crying to my mom as I tried to figure out why he despised me so much, and to my shock, her response was always “Honey, it means he likes you.” He was the one who fascinated me and confused me all at the same time. He was my first boyfriend, and we made it official when he told me liked my sweater on picture day. He was the guy that I told that I “like-liked” over AIM, and I can still hear my girlfriends screaming and squealing in the background, as his messages read that I was cute and he wanted to “go out” at recess tomorrow. This boy was confusing and nervous as he told his friends to find me on the playground and break up with me after three days because he liked Sally’s collection of sweaters better. By the end of our relationship, this boy was huddled around his friends for protection, scared to face the wrath of a heart broken third-grade girl.

In middle school, I began to see what boys were like in the real world, with their Justin-Bieber-flippy hair and their Hollister and Abercrombie clothes. I noticed their awkward, shy crooked smiles and the way their voices cracked whenever a pretty girl asked them a question or said hi. My dream guy when I was in middle school stood by his locker with his friends, and I prayed that he’d notice me as we passed in the halls on the way to the first-hour class we had together. I pictured the Harry Styles’ and the Jesse McCartney’s of the world being my first kiss, and I imagined having my mom drop my boyfriend and I off at the movies for our first official date. I pictured getting butterflies as he held my hand, and I imagined him texting me when I got home, saying he couldn’t wait to meet up at my locker at school tomorrow. My dream guy in middle school would take me to our formal, and even when his older brother laughed when we called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, he’d get angry and defend us because we were each other’s and that was all the mattered. My dream boy in middle school was a rebellious spirit with me, and by rebellious, I mean he would wait to finish his homework until after we hung out.

As I became a teenager and was thrown into high school, I pictured my dream guy wearing a decorated, stocky letterman jacket. I wondered what sport he would be unreasonably good at, and I wondered if it would be a baseball diamond, a football field or a hockey rink that would be my second home as I cheered him on as a proud girlfriend. I tried to envision what jersey number I would wear in support of him on game day, and what it’d be like to have him by my side in the hallway. I imagined the caress of his big, muscly arms as he held me through the night as his teenage dream and his first love. I dreamt of running into him at the gym after he had just worked out, all sweaty and steamy from being a manly-man and lifting heavy stuff. I pictured us slow dancing at prom, melting in each other’s arms as we wondered how on Earth we got this lucky -- to be young and in love like we were. I imagined riding shotgun in his truck as we headed out for date night, the only things on our minds being freedom and falling even more in love with each other. I envisioned late night sleepy phone calls and not-so-productive study sessions together because instead of getting caught up in our homework, we’d get caught up in each other -- he was so distracting. I dreamt of making all the other girls jealous when we hung out with our friends, and I pictured burning our summer nights out around the campfire together with those that mattered most to us. I imagined telling everyone about how amazing my boyfriend was, what his “credentials” for being a great guy were and how popular he was. I pictured a tall, dark-haired, smooth-talking son-of-a-gun: I could practically see him. I dreamt of holding his hand in the car and kissing him goodnight. I dreamt of snuggling up and “watching movies” with him, when really, the movie is not what I would be watching at all; I’d be watching him, so caught up in him because I couldn’t get my brain to comprehend how he was so stinking cute.

But over time, I started to notice my dream guy changing like a sprinkle before a downpour: first slowly, then all at once. Suddenly, he was like nothing I’d ever envisioned before. He was completely different, and he had completely changed.

Everything I had once thought I wanted faded into the background.

My dream guy was no longer a prince riding in on a white horse.

He was no longer the little boy who used to pull my hair and chase me around the playground.

He was no longer the guy caught in between a boy and man wearing too much Axe and super tight Abercrombie clothes.

And he definitely wasn’t the guy with the most decorated varsity jacket.

I don’t even have a picture or idea of what my perfect guy looks like.

I haven’t imagined his hair color, how tall he is or what sport he plays.

I haven’t given much thought to the color of his eyes, how big his muscles are or even what kind of car he’s going to drive.

I haven’t even wondered what his name is going to be.

What seemed to once matter to me -- what he looked like, what he did, what he had -- it no longer does. And things I never noticed before suddenly became so important.

The new qualities and characteristics I decided I want became very clear to me, and they are now the things I look for in a potential boyfriend.

But I’d be lying if I said I still don’t think about those old things I used to want. I haven’t completely abandoned my roots -- in a way, I’m still looking for exactly those same things I once had dreamed of, only now, with a little twist.

I’m still looking for the guy with the noble steed -- except this time, his noble steed will be his dog, his best friend and someone he’s allowed to love (almost) as much as he loves me.

I’m still looking for a prince, but not a prince for me. I’m looking for a guy who will play dress-up with his daughter and who will treat her like the queen she is to me.

I’m still looking for a knight in shining armor -- someone who will be there to save the day when all hell breaks loose, someone to protect his queen and princess when our kingdom comes crumbling down. I’m looking for a knight who’s willing to fight for our relationship when times get hard, and whose willing to guard my heart like he’ll guard the entrance to our castle.

I’m still looking for that kid who would chase me around the playground, but this time, I want him to chase his dreams with me. I want the wide-eyed, dreamer, who will chase after everything he can possibly squeeze out of life. I want to be the woman he runs to when he gets good news, and the girl he can’t wait to celebrate with when his dreams start coming true.

I’m looking for that boy who will still tease me; the guy who will be a kid at heart even in our rocking chairs and walkers. I want the man who will laugh with me forever when life gets tough because laughter is the best medicine and I need some who’s dorky enough to get my humor.

I’d love to have that boy who can be rough-and-tumble with his friends, but who can be a gentleman and sweetheart when he comes home to me. The guy who can go be rowdy and crazy with his buddies, but who knows how to clean up nice and be charming in front of my parents. I want that guy who can dirty up his work boots and be blue-collar Monday through Friday, but who can stun in his Sunday best and humble himself to love Jesus.

I still want the shy-smiled boy, whose heart race accelerates when I’m nearby. I hope he’s the guy who still gets anxious around me like a teenage boy around a pretty girl. In our old age, I still want to be the one who can knock him out with the flash of a smile and a twirl of my hair. I want to be that girl that he thinks of when the old Justin Bieber and One Direction come on the radio.

I crave that kid who will stand up to his brother when he doesn’t take us seriously, and I want the man who others will think are crazy because of how much he loves his wife. I don’t mind being the couple that people think is nuts, over the top and insane -- that’s just how in love I’ll want to be with him.

I still long for that boy who can’t wait to call me as soon as our date is over, but now, I want the guy whose mind I’m running through all day. I want the guy who will call me at work just because he wanted to hear my voice or because he had something exciting but not-so-important he just couldn’t wait to tell me.

I still dream about that varsity athlete, but now, I want him for his competitiveness: for the way he’ll continue to compete for my heart even when he’s already won it over, and for the way he’ll compete with himself each and every day to be a better man, dad and husband. I want that guy who wants to be better than the guy he was yesterday -- even though I’ll still think the guy from yesterday couldn’t possibly get better.

I still want that boy who was my first love -- the first person I really fell for. I want him to grow up to be the man I fall for over and over again, day after day of being together, because that’s just the effect he’ll have on me. I want every time we’re together to be new and exciting, because he’s the type of soul I could spend a lifetime with and still have a million questions about.

I still hope I get the guy who has all the credentials that come when you find a keeper, but not the typical credentials society wants me to see. He doesn’t have to be a doctor or be the most handsome guy with the best smile and a set of rock hard abs. No, he doesn’t have to have any of these things. He just has to be the guy with the biggest heart and the best personality -- the guy I can tell my dreams to, who can make me laugh and can be my rock when it feels like the sky is falling.

So yeah, my dream guy is nothing like he used to be, you’re right -- he’s going to be so much better than that.

He’s going to be my best friend.

He’s going to be real.

And he’s going to be my kind of perfection.