Sable Monroe

When I was younger, I thought I was just picky.

I had a very specific type. If a man didn’t look a certain way, I wasn’t interested. No negotiation. No curiosity. Just no.

At the time, I didn’t question it. I just assumed that was my preference.

But looking back now, I understand something I couldn’t explain back then.

It wasn’t just attraction.

It was safety.

Growing up, the men around me were not gentle. They were loud. Aggressive. Physically imposing. The kind of presence that made you feel small without them even touching you.

So my body learned early:

That kind of energy is dangerous.

And anything that felt even remotely similar to that?

I rejected it.

Completely.

I wasn’t drawn to overly masculine men. Deep voices, dominating energy, that “I can overpower you” presence — it didn’t attract me. It made me anxious.

If a man sounded like he was part bear, I didn’t think, wow, that’s attractive.

I thought, I need to stay away from him.

So instead, I was drawn to something very different.

Softer men. Lean men. Men who looked almost androgynous. The kind of men who didn’t feel like a threat just by existing.

The kind of men who felt… safe.

And it wasn’t about race either.

I had massive crushes on Prince and Michael Jackson.

Two completely different men, but they shared something important:

They weren’t intimidating.

They were expressive. Controlled. A little delicate in how they carried themselves.

That was what drew me in.

At the time, people might have looked at me and thought I was being superficial.

That I only liked a certain “look.”

But what I was really doing — without even realizing it — was filtering for safety.

And that filter protected me.

Because the truth is, a lot of the men who showed interest in me when I was younger were not safe men.

They were predatory. Opportunistic. The kind of men who look for vulnerability.

And they didn’t look like anything I was drawn to.

They didn’t look like the men in the romance novels I read. They didn’t look like the boy band posters or the artists I admired.

So it was easy to say no.

Not because I had some deep understanding of danger at that age.

But because my body already knew:

This doesn’t feel right.

And I listened.

Now, as an adult, my type has expanded.

I can appreciate different kinds of men. I’m not as rigid as I used to be.

I can look at someone like that rugged, lumberjack, Thor-type man and think, yeah… I see it.

But even then, what matters hasn’t actually changed.

It’s not about how masculine he looks.

It’s about how he feels.

Does he feel grounded?

Does he feel emotionally safe?

Does he feel like someone I can exist around without my body going on high alert?

Because I’ve learned this the hard way:

Attraction without safety is not desire.

It’s danger.

And what I thought was me being “picky” all those years ago…

Was actually me protecting myself in the only way I knew how.