They say women grow up to marry a man like their father. If this is true, then I’m destined to marry a tall, hardworking, beard-growing, outdoor-loving hunter and handy man with a thing for John Wayne movies, reruns of “The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross” and homemade beef jerky. For years I’ve fought the urge to believe this adage — not because my father isn’t an exemplary role model of a husband, but one can only wake up to the smell of beef drying in the oven for so long. However, as I get older and the dating pool seems to be getting shallower, maybe there’s something to be said about going for what you know. Statistically speaking, most of the men I’ve dated in the last year have been taller than six feet and more than half have rocked a beard (or some form of facial hair). I’ve dated four (almost five) men named Brian (which just happens to be my dad’s name) and a whopping one out of three men I pursue turn out to be Pisces (which just happens to be my dad’s sign). So what? I have a type. Recently, I’ve become rather infatuated with a man who can speak quite intelligently about ancient history, U.S. history and fly fishing — did I mention he’s six feet tall and has a super manly beard? (I’m afraid to ask how he feels about Bob Ross). Truth is, I’m infinitely less concerned about how similar any man is to my father, and far more concerned about how dissimilar he may be to me. Though I’ve spent a great deal of my life hearing my mom tell me how alike my father and I are, fundamentally we enjoy very different things. My dad goes for comfort; I go for style. My dad goes boating to fish; I go boating to tan. My dad golfs to win; I golf so I can drink in the afternoon without feeling judged. So what gives? While my father may be all of the things described above, he’s the only man who’s ever worked tirelessly to ensure all of my dreams come true. He loves me no matter what and believes I can do anything I set my mind to. That being said, I’ve come to terms with one simple fact: if someday I’m blessed to meet another man who can live up to the measure of my father — quirks included — I guess the rest will just be jerky.