I cannot count how many times I've been asked that question, especially in the years since my daughter was born. As if there's only one kind I'd be attracted to. It never made sense to me, because even as a kid when I left the house each day I went to school in a mixed elementary school where I was a minority. I learned to make friends with people from all types of backgrounds and ethnicities. I was bullied. I was excluded for being different. And I'm grateful for this, because as I grew up I learned how to spot my people - not by race but by their kindness, their openness and their authenticity.

So when people ask me what my type is, this is what I tell them:

My type isn't black, or white or brown

He isn't straight, or gay

He doesn't fit in a box

My type is a man who is gentle, and strong

Who loves people

Who gets inspired

Who lives his passion

Who leads by example

Who shows the fuck up

Who commits and means it

Who loves all of me

And most of all

Who holds space for others

to find themselves

and to live without seeing types.