HomerDating can be harsh, as the Sleeping With Money series will sometimes indicate. I’ve dealt with some heartless people in the past, although some could say the same about me. One of my meanest experiences was purely unintentional on my part. The source of my guilt: I overreacted to finding out that someone was a toy collector.

Back when I was single, I met a guy we’ll just call Homer. I had just been going through a nasty breakup at the time. Homer came up to me at the bar and we started having a long and funny chat about movies and music we both liked. So in my breakup rage sadness and all, I sort of went home with Homer that night. The next morning I caught a glimpse of his home office as I was headed to bathroom. I saw a wall covered with action figures in their boxes. There was everything from Simpsons, to Star Wars, to stuff I never heard of before. Toys were everywhere. I knew that Homer was like 38 or 39 years old. I was so weirded out that I gathered my stuff in a hurry, muttered to Homer something about an emergency that I had made up, and I never called him again.

Yes, I know it was pretty mean, and to this day I feel bad about it. The world isn’t kind to toy collectors in general, as this volatile Digg thread points out.

I have to explain my reaction though, in hopes that it can help toy collectors understand why dating may be more difficult for them. To put it simply, it’s the not the toy collector who is unlikable, it’s the clutter.

For instance, my mom and one of my sisters were terrible hoarders while I was growing up. They saved all the clothes they ever owned; they never threw out any goods that had been replaced by something else; and they bought crafts and collectibles that were the complete opposite of my taste. It was their money, so I had no right to care. Correct?

Actually, their clutter would find some way to overflow to the rest of the house, and even in my own bedroom at times. I never saw them reach for the stuff they were saving. They knew where everything was, but they never used them! And what drove me crazier is that they would keep adding things to their collections!!

They called it “collections,” but I called it clutter. To me, if you’re not using what you’re buying, it’s a waste of money and space. And if it’s making the house or shared environment look aesthetically unpleasant, then I or anyone else has a right to complain.

I have been living far away from home now for several years now. But as a result of having grown up in the same house with “collectors,” I’m permanently conditioned to hate the sight of clutter, collections, whatever you want to call it. It’s true that some collector’s items go up in value, and that huge stack of action figures could one day turn out to be worth a fortune. However, there’s another danger in clutter, collections, whatever-you-call-it: it presents an overwhelming showcase of one of your interests, which some people may incorrectly interpret as the entirety of your interests. Whereas the toy collector sees joy in their small fortune, a potential mate sees nothing but a waste of money if they’re not interested in cartoons, fantasy or sci-fi.

I worry about my friend who collects fantasy and sci-fi memorabilia. I’ve never seen Star Wars, Harry Potter, Star Trek, [insert similar trilogy]. Tolkien sparks my ire and contempt, but my friend and I still relate to each other in many other ways. He’s incredibly funny and smart, and has many unique interests. But would a girl get to know this about him if she took one look at his apartment, even after a flawless date? Probably not.

It’s not worthwhile to stereotype toy collectors. Having lived with collectors, and having a sometimes toy collector friend, I know that there’s a lot more to people than what they like to collect. I like clothes and music. If I had more discretionary income, I’d be spending more money on those things. Does that represent all of my interests? Absolutely not.

I don’t think it’s the toy collector who has to change. We all have different interests, and we have the right to spend our money on whatever we please. When it comes to dating, it doesn’t hurt to keep an open mind. It’s rather convenient that the things I like to buy will fit nicely into a closet, or can be uploaded onto an iPod — there’s no clutter in sight. Out of sight, out of mind, and no judgment.

A toy collector, on the other hand, creates a quirky museum. It’s not fine art, nor is it very grown up. But who says all of our interests have to conform to a certain standard? Every Homer out there deserves a chance, or at least better treatment than what I gave. Wouldn’t you want your quirks to be given a fighting chance?