No knocking. There has been no knocking at my door. No single men beating down my door, asking me out. I am actually surprised. I thought by this time my mother would have been handing out fliers with my photo, stats and address on them to anyone men she might happen to see. But no, she hasn't gone that route yet. So as I stood looking out my front door noting the lack of single available men walking by, I decided I needed to do something. Something drastic. Perhaps something proactive. Maybe even something risky. Dammit, I am going to put myself out there.
First I go to dinner with some girlfriends and one friend asks me if I would be willing to go on a blind date. Is there really such a thing in the age of the internet? Can't you find anyone online? Isn't everyone on FaceBook? So who is this blind guy. He is a 40 year old who has never been married. Hmmmm....does he live with his mother? No? Ok, then I can consider him. But then my friend tells me he is really shy and I will have to contact him first. Now, I am not a traditional woman who insists that the guy ask me out but seriously come on. This may be why he is 40 and never been married. And I am not sure my bubbly, vivacious and sometimes bitterly sarcastic personality is an exact match with a guy who is too shy to email me. But wait, didn't I just say I would take some risk? So, I email him. I try to come off as sweet and kind which is really a stretch for me. I tell him to friend me on FaceBook and that way he can get a sense of who I am and then decide if he wants to get together. We'll see. No response yet.
But I am not just going to sit around and wait. No, the new me is going to find a date. But wait.....a friend request on FaceBook. Is it the blind date? No, it is the crazy high school crush who defriended me a year ago and thus became the object of my stalking. He wants to be my friend again. Joy! Hold on, I should get a backbone. I should not accept. But I need to accept. I need to have access to his life. I will accept. I accept. And there he is in all his glory. Photos of him kiteboarding. Photos of him having fun with his brothers. And wait, what is this? I am losing interest. The access has given me freedom.
And if that wasn't enough, I have an email from Match.com. And it isn't awful. He is a few years older than me, decent looking if you overlook the photo of him in a sleeveless shirt using power tools (really? that is not sexy). He seems to have a good job. He has been married and has kids. This is promising. I write back. He writes some more. He gives me his cell phone number. And dammit, I call him and we talk. He is neither as quick or as funny as me, but who is? I am not going to judge yet. We make a date. Yikes. I have a legitimate date. What will I wear?
He emails me every day. And I am not trying to be negative before I meet him but I have no patience for people who say, 'in my world I try to let every day be wonderful'. I will not judge. I will look past this optimism. Optimism is a good thing right. I will not let my cyncism ruin this. I will go on my date. Oh, I can feel where this is going. He is going to say goofy sweet happy things and I am going to want to puke in my very cute shoes. No.....I will make my Mother proud and go on this date. Yet I won't tell her about it because then I won't hear the end of it. The incessant questions will be too much for me. I will go on this date and I will smile becasue after all I am 41 and single.