This story is part of Bored Panda Premium • 8 min read
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Most of my girlfriends want a golden retriever boyfriend. One who is always happy, always by their side, vibrating with enthusiasm at the mere fact that their queen exists. It sounds quite lovely. I, however, am partial to Rottweiler energy. Tough, stoic, a complete teddy bear when nobody is looking. Maybe it is daddy issues. Maybe it is a preference for emotional complexity over perpetual sunshine. Who knows.

But I have come to accept that every anthropomorphic rationalization of a man’s personality comes with its own set of red flags, some just more visible than others. With a Rottweiler, the flags are obvious. With a golden retriever, they are hidden behind an ever-present smile and a frankly irresistible amount of enthusiasm.

Carrie Bradshaw had Aidan, and we all decided this was the pinnacle of romantic achievement. The devoted man. The uncomplicated man. The man who showed up, loved openly, and never played games. And then the show put both him and Big to the test, and both of them failed in their own spectacular ways, because the golden retriever archetype, for all its warmth, carries its own brand of dysfunction. It just takes longer to find it beneath the wagging.

Around 45% of surveyed singles say they are looking for a golden-retriever-type partner, according to Tinder data. The longing is real, and it makes complete sense in the context of a dating landscape that has spent several years being colonized by men who think expressing affection makes them a simp. Against that backdrop, a man who dances with you under the Eiffel Tower, flies across the world to spend two days with you, or refuses to walk a red carpet until his wife has had her moment first, is not just appealing. He is revolutionary. He is also, potentially, a lot. Turns out psychologists have a name for it, and it’s not flattering.