“I don’t think I am quite so much enthralled by him, as I am by the fact that he hasn’t made any poor typographical choices,” I said about a boy.
Mediocre typography is almost a standard found in the men that I date, which is generally surprising because my circle of friends contains a number of type snobs. Aside from a “Ban Comic Sans” flyer pinned to my cubicle wall, I’m reasonably tolerable, although my enchantment with certain men have certainly taken nosedives after witnessing appalling type decisions on their end. My friend Matthew, who is certainly more insufferable of a type snob than I am(as I am barely one), once refused to walk into a restaurant after already having walked a couple hungry miles down Melrose Ave. because the menu, and signage were in Comic Sans and Arial. Despite being rather famished myself, I could not disagree with any particular point.
I was having dinner with the aforementioned Matthew a couple weeks ago when this topic, and that of an ex boyfriend came up. “He signed his emails with Comic Sans,” Matthew said. I nearly fell off my precariously perched barstool. “What?” he followed, “I thought you knew and liked him anyway.”
I didn’t know, because I disabled rich text and HTML for years in all my email applications. It truly bothered me to realize that a relationship that went on for far longer than necessary, and did me no favours (although it was not an unpleasant relationship) could have had about a year and a half shaved off it by merely having different preferences in my email client.
I wouldn’t have dumped him just because of that, of course. It’s more about having that first “wow, he has no taste” to break you out of the delusion of infatuation. The abject use and abuse of Comic Sans is a very good way to halt the creep of infatuation.
Later, after that prolonged, unnecessary relationship, I met a wonderful boy who was sweet and creative and intelligent and liked beer and we got along quite well. That was, until I discovered his penchant for Papyrus. I mean, I still liked him but…all you really need is that first seed of “this ain’t gonna work out.” I still consider him a friend, and I appreciate him as a person, but I think our our typographical leanings were just too dissimilar.
You know, what I’m totally okay with, though? The “default” boys. No, really. I will never fault you for Times New Roman. Some ordinary serif will make no worse impression on me. So write me a love letter in Times, if you have to. I’ll still read it.
I fall in love with words easily – I obsess over perfect paragraphs and the people who write them. I don’t like wasting time trying to think about the perfect man, because those sorts break your heart and leave you slightly different in all the wrong ways, like the relationship between Microsoft and Helvetica, so I divert my attention by lusting after the perfect serif. I don’t know what it is yet, but when I meet it, I will know.
Filed under: men | Tagged: snobbery typography men
