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The One about The One.

So, a friend and I were talking about The One last night. No, I'm not talking about Mr Hot-But-Stupid.

So, so hot. But, really. Did you see him try to do Shakespeare in Much Ado about Nothing? Clearly not very smart.

No, I'm talking about that mythical creature, my one and only soul mate, the guy I will meet, develop an almost instant attraction to, fall in love with, marry, raise a couple kids with, and die together somewhere in our late 90s, still blissfully in love, holding hands and staring off into the sunset.

Okay, maybe nobody really expects all that, but this friend and I were talking about The One because a mutual friend is going through a break-up. She had really hoped this guy would be The One, and now it looks like he won't be, and she's sad. And we feel sad for her.

So, I'm realizing, I used to believe in The One. I used to hold onto relationships long past their expiration date, because I was convinced that moving on would be throwing away my one and only chance at happiness. After all, if I only have one One out there, and I give up too easily, will I die alone? That doesn't sound like much fun.

(In fairness, I need to point out that I still held this belief in the not-so-distant past. Less than a year ago I was stubbornly sticking it out in the worst relationship of my life because I had convinced myself that this guy was truly The One.)

I know that people believe in The One because it gives them hope. If I know there's someone out there for me, all I have to do is keep looking. I'll find him. (Or he'll find me.) And we'll both get our Happily Ever Afters.

But, what has my belief in The One gotten me? The three worst relationships of my life. Let's recap.

The First One: College. That should tell you something. He was my first real relationship, and I fell hard. We said things to each other like, "I will always love you" and "You're the most important person who will ever be in my life." I didn't really believe these things, but I said them because he said them, and I thought he was The One. We broke up when I started asking him why he was spending so much time with his best friend's girlfriend. Later, I discovered that not only was he sleeping with her, but he also cheated on me with five more women (most of whom were my "friends") and (though this was never confirmed) one man. He's currently married to my former best friend.

The Wedded One: He would have been a really good friend. Unfortunately, I married him. We had completely different views on responsibility, money, hard work, kids and monogamy. On that last issue: I required it, and he hated me for it. On the second to last issue: He refused, and I hated him for it. I spent 12 years trying to compromise on issues for which there is no compromise because I thought he was The One. I should have broken it off after six months.

The Evil One: He refused to let me see my friends, was jealous of the one week a year I spend with my family, was controlling, paranoid, manipulative, and mean. He'd trick me into telling him things, then he'd keep me up all night yelling at me for something he thought I'd lied about. I let him get away with it, because sometimes he really was nice, and I was sure that nice person was The One. It took me a year and a half to realize that the nice person was an illusion.

So, I don't believe in The One anymore. I just don't. I absolutely still believe that I'll find someone. I will fall in love. I'll probably even get married and have kids. But, that person won't be the only person in the world for me.

The fact is, the world is a really big place. There are more than 6 1/2 billion people on this planet, over a billion in China alone. There might be thousands of true loves out there waiting for me. Gosh, maybe even millions, if I'm willing to learn Chinese!

It's all luck and timing. I could meet someone tomorrow, and he could be perfect for me. If I had met him a week earlier, he might have been all wrong. We're all in constant flux. We change. They change. The world changes. If it fizzles out with one potential true love, it's time to pick myself up, fix whatever's wrong with me (and believe me, there's plenty to fix) and start looking for the next.

And when I find whatever happens to be my last relationship, he won't be The One. We won't be together because of fate. We'll be together because together is where we both choose to be.

He will love me every bit as much as I love him. We will be happy. We will have struggles. We will both look out for the other's needs, while also looking out for ourselves. We will not be everything to each other, but we will be all that we're needed to be.

He won't be The One. He'll be better than that.

Honesty Overload

So, we all know that the online dating scene is filled with liars.

I've heard of guys lying about being single. Lying about their age (remember Frank?) And even lying about what they look like altogether.

(My friend, J, tells an awesome story about going to meet a guy whose photos showed him with a full head of lush black hair, and finding in his place a bald man who not only had a different hairstyle, but completely different facial features!)

But, folks, there is such a thing as being a little too honest.

Meet Mark. When asked for the first thing people notice about him, Mark says:

I think it depends on whether they have been drinking or not and what buttons I push. Otherwise I am pretty easy going.

Mark, what exactly does that mean? Are you nice, unless someone is drunk, and then you're a jerk? Do you hang out in bars, "pushing the buttons" of drunk people? Most importantly, Mark, has this resulted in many bar fights that could have damaged your intelligence? Because that's the only reason I can come up with to intentionally taunt drunk people for fun.

So, this week I encountered the most ill advised honest streak of my online dating life thus far. In just a few short paragraphs, in response to completely innocuous standard eHarmony questions, this guy managed to tell me that:

1. He smokes a lot of pot. (Though he claims he's not a pot-head. Yeah, right.)
2. He has bad fire safety habits. (Used paper cups as candle holders. Really?)
3. He lacks common sense. (Tried to put the fire out with his bare hands. Ouch!)
4. He sometimes has trouble with erectile dysfunction.

Sadly, I was kinda liking Mr. Honesty before this particular exchange.

The Tale of Two Dates

I promise, this post will be shorter than a Dickens novel. But, not by much!

So, last week I went on two first dates. This is big for me. I don't think I've ever been on two first dates in one week because a) although I am fabulous, I'm not quite THAT fabulous and b) I'm one of those, I meet a guy-I fall for a guy-I forget that there are even other guys in the universe-all before the first kiss, kind of girls.

Or, I used to be that kind of girl. I'm working on it.

So, I think my shrink (aka dating coach) would be proud that I accepted two dates in one week. Date #2 I actually met first. My friend, K, and I met him at a dance. He's cute, despite the fact that he clearly has two left feet. And he's quiet. Like...super quiet. Like...he's one of those people who can stand in a corner alone in a room full of people and not even notice that he's alone.

In other words...this guy is nothing like me.

But, K dug him and since she's all coupled-up, she invited him to come dancing with the intention of throwing me at him. Well, it kinda worked. I finally talked to Mr. Bashful and it turns out that he has a rather dry, but funny sense of humor. We work in the same (not very big) industry. We went to the same college (me for undergrad, he for grad school.) We're the same age. We're both divorced. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

So, he asks me out. I say yes. I give him my number and wait for the phone call.

Monday morning I get an email from a guy on match. He thinks I'm cute. He likes my profile. He mentions enough of what's contained therein for me to know that he actually read the thing.

He wants to go out...like, now. None of this send an email, wait three days, send a reply, wait a week, ask for her number, wait three days, send a text message, wait a week, then promise to call.

It's just, "Hi. I like you. If you like me, let's get a drink tonight."

Refreshing.

I check out his profile. Pros: He's got a really cool arts-related career. (I like creative people.) He seems sincere. He seems serious (when it comes to relationships) but funny and optimistic (when it comes to life.) This is looking good.

Cons: His photo is artsy and kinda cool, but too far away to tell what he actually looks like. He has two kids already and isn't sure if he wants more. And he's a little older than I'd prefer (but I seem to be liking older lately, so I'm not sure how much of a problem that is.)

I say, sure. Let's go out, but not today.

Before I hear back, I get a call from Mr. Bashful. I give him the option of Wednesday or Friday. He picks Friday. We agree on Italian and he says he'll call for reservations.

So, when I do hear back from First Date #1, I tell him Wednesday's the day. He says cool, but he's got his kids til 8. This is perfect, I think. An after dinner drink is the ideal amount of time to spend with someone you've never met. If we don't hit to off, we're only stuck there for an hour...tops.

Wednesday comes around and I'm feeling a serious lack of excitement and anticipation. My brain has filled in all the parts of the photo I can't see and I'm convinced this guy looks like a mouse. Maybe a cute mouse? But, still...a mouse.

See? Mice can be cute. But I wouldn't want to date one!

By the time I get to the restaurant, I'm sure that I'm not going to be able to pick this guy out from the crowd. And, I'm right, because the guy who comes up to me and says hello is less like a mouse and more like Steve from Sex and the City!

I'm not sure this is a terribly literal comparison. If I were to put up the actual guy's picture, you might beg to differ. But, like Steve Brady here, I find Date #1 to be adorable.

So, long story short, my date (for the sake of simplicity we'll call him Steve) turns out to be a pretty cool guy. He's funny. Easy to talk to. Listens to what I say. Looks me in the eyes. Answers questions honestly and thoughtfully. And, I gotta say, he's a damm good kisser. All in all, a pretty fabulous first date!

But, remember, I'm still on the hook with First Date #2 with Mr. Bashful? So, Friday rolls around and I head out to the Italian part of town. He's waiting outside. I give him a hug. We go inside and the restaurant is about the size of a postage stamp...good thing he made a reservation! We get a little shelf (not even really a table) at the window and try to make small talk.

It's painful.

Me: How was your week?
Him: Good.
Me. Anything exciting happen?
Him: No.
Me. So, what did you do all week?
Him: Stuff.

This is trouble. Before too long, I resort to asking him what he watches on TV (sports) and what he likes to do on the weekends (running and biking.) I even ask him for the coolest travel destination he's ever been to (mine's Africa) and he says, "um, East Providence. And North...North Providence."

This is clearly a joke. It's also clear that he has no answer to my question.

On the plus side, the food is fabulous and the service is quick. So, within an hour and 15 minutes, we're back on the street.

We start walking. I have no idea where we're headed. I ask him. He points in a random direction. Eventually, that route takes us past a subway station and I say, "Oh is this where we were headed?" He says, "Not really." I say, "Okay, did you have something else in mind?"

Long, long pause.

Finally I say, "It's a beautiful night. Want to go for a walk?"

This is how we end up on a completely aimless walk around a deserted downtown with nothing much to say. It's not painful, but not enjoyable either. I keep thinking I might get him to loosen up and I might discover a hidden gem under than awkward exterior. Do you want to know what I found under the awkwardness?

More awkward.

(Side note: Have you ever noticed how awkward the word "awkward" is? My fingers never quite want to type it. My tongue trips over the two w's. I love it when words are what they mean, you know?)

Eventually our aimless walk takes us past another subway station and I make some excuse about needing to get up early on Saturday. I give him a hug, and scurry up the steps as fast as I can. Date over.

So...one week. Two first dates. One was great. The other was awkward. Two lessons learned.

1. I would rather have one great first date and one awful first date than two mediocre first dates.

2. There's a reason people date more than one person at a time. I've since gone on a second date with the-man-we'll-call-Steve and it was very nice, but we still have a lot to learn about each other. If I hadn't been distracted by my Friday date, I might have already started planning our wedding in my head. (Don't laugh. I've done it before.)

So, now what? I had a phone "date" with an eHarmony guy last night. He just texted me. He wants to go out this week, but I just don't think I'm into him. Here's the problem:

Pros: He's cute. Nice. Funny. Friendly. Social. Owns his own businesses (okay, they're a couple of Dunkin Donuts, but still...shows initiative.) He wants kids and he's clearly serious about finding someone.

Cons: He has a wicked strong Boston accent.

Part of me thinks that I should go out with him. First, he'll keep me from going gaga over pseudo-Steve. Secondly, who knows...maybe I'll like him!

Thoughts?

How Could I Forget Meatloaf Man?

So, those of you who were paying attention (all two of you!) know that I recently completed a challenge to go on dates with 20 men. The idea was to keep me from seeing "the one" in every loser I met, and I'm pretty sure it worked...or at least helped. Need a recap? Find it here.

Sadly, when I wrote that post, one of my 20 had gone missing. No matter how hard I tried...one of the names was simply escaping me.

Well, driving to work today, it hit me: Meatloaf Man! I even remember where he belongs in the line-up. So, the revised rundown goes like this...

20. Anderson Cooper (no, not the real one.)
19. Not fat, not sweaty, and not cheap.
18. Speed dater who was be fatter, older, and less charming than I remembered.
17. The Man
16. Crazy C
15. Speed dater whose name I've forgotten.
14. Tortillas and Tequila
13. The Russian
12. The Dr. Who Bit Me
11. Bob
10. C, the 1st
9. Meatloaf Man!
8. Pee Boy
7. What do you mean you don't want kids?
6. The First Boy I Ever Asked Out
5. The Australian Boy
4. Paul with a P
3. The Republican
2. The Flirt
1. He Who Shall Not Be Named

Since Meatloaf Man was so sadly forgotten, I'll share his story now.

I met Meatloaf Man at a Meatloaf concert (go figure!) I got a ticket on a lark, because they were just $10. By halfway through the show, I totally wanted my money back. I'm sorry if you're a Meatloaf fan, but the man is a couple decades past his prime...

This is actually Meatloaf. Not Meatloaf Man. I know it's confusing...

During the show I noticed this guy looking like he was trying to come talk to us, but it took him until the encores to actually do it. He said hello. We exchanged pleasantries. He asked if I'd like to go out sometime. I said sure. He made fun of my forehead wrinkle. I resisted the urge to retaliate by making fun of his male pattern baldness.

Anyway, a few days later he picked me up at my place for our date. We drove into Harvard Square. He showed me secret parking I never knew existed (which has come in handy from time to time) and we walked around the square, dropping into a couple bars and then taking a stroll through Harvard Yard. Along the way, I did some quick math in my head and figured that he was probably a bit older than I was really interested in dating. Beyond that, the date was kinda just okay.

He drove me home and walked me to the door. I was just gonna make a hasty retreat when he surprised me with a pretty darn good kiss. I was still under the influence of that surprisingly sweet kiss when he said "would you like to get together again sometime?" "Sure," my kiss befuddled brain responded.

He said something about Wednesday. I said, "Sounds good." Come Wednesday afternoon, I still hadn't heard from him. My phone rang when I was in the check out line at the grocery store, but he didn't leave a message. He didn't call back. I tried calling him, but didn't get through.

Fast forward a year..maybe longer. I was suck in a relationship with #16. I started getting these calls from Meatloaf Man.

He had met someone at a party. He was clearly very, very into her. He wanted to go on a date. He hoped that she did, too. When he didn't hear back from his first call, he tried again. He just didn't understand why she was letting their perfect connection fall apart.

Unfortunately, he was leaving these messages for me, and I clearly wasn't the girl he met at a party. I thought about calling him and letting him know he was calling the wrong girl, but somehow it just kinda slipped my mind...until now. I wonder if it's too late to make that call?

My friend, the Angel...

So, I know I said I was going to keep my identity secret and all, but I couldn't stop myself from sending the blog out to a few also-dating friends. These friends have some stories of their own. This is one I just couldn't stop myself from sharing.

For reasons that will soon become apparent, we'll call my friend Angel. She recently turned 30. She's successful and sassy. She's fun and flirty. And she's hot. I'd say her celebrity doppelganger would be a younger Cameron Diaz.



Yep. Hot.

So, like so many of us, this friend of mine is giving match a try. Recently, she received a letter from this guy.

Not hot.

This dude is 48 years old. He lives way out in Chesterfield, which is 2 1/4 hours outside the city. And he has quite the flair with words.

hello

Hi angel, I wonder how God could let you go off so easily, seeing you has really made me forget to ask how are you doing .well let me not be carried away by your beauty I must tell you the truth you are among the wonders of Gods beauty. I am sorry, i ought to introduce my self, my name is Collins, a 48yrs old Briton, I am a business man who buys and supply arts. I've been on this site for some few hours now. You have a very interesting profile. Can we communicate and see where this takes us to? Meeting with you will be my first joy, I am currently online now and i will really want us to talk, my yahoo IM is searching4@talkmatch.com and my email address is searching4@talkmatch.com Angel, please it will gladden my heart by giving me a response. Don't even talk about the distance, because distance can never and will never be an obstacle to me when it comes to true love. The search shows you are online now pls do include your yahoo id when replying so we could start by chatting. You are beautiful, Cheers till i hear from you. Great smiles

Collins

Okay, let's just sit with this for a sec, shall we? We all know that girls love compliments, but "you are among the wonders of Gods [sic] beauty?" Wow. That's a lot to live up to. And what's with the "meeting with you will be my first joy" line? Has this man never experienced joy before? Never? In his 48 years?

Never?

I'll leave you to find the other little treasures of this message, but before you go. Does anyone else think this guy is full of shit when he claims to be "a Briton?" First of all, everyone I've met from the U.K. identifies by their nationality, English, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, you get the picture. And, those who wish to be a little more vague usually say they're British, not Britons.

Beyond that, most Brits are actually proud of their command of the English language. This guy is dropping grammatical and syntaxical errors in every other line. I think he just saw Love Actually one too many times and he thinks that faking an accent is gonna get him a bar full of hot chicks.



Unfortunately, this guy has more in common with Britney in her crazy-talking-in-accents-while-wearing-a-wig phase than he does with Love Actually's "Love God." Try again, Collins, if that really is your name...

Thoughts on the Twenty

Okay, so a while back I was what I like to call a Quantum Dater. You know that cheesy 80s show Quantum Leap? No? Here's a recap.

Scott Bakula was a brilliant scientist who invented a time machine and then oh-so-brilliantly tested it on himself. Of course, hilarity ensured when he discovered that the machine sent him uncontrollably through time, leaping in and out of other people's lives. A female voice (whom I never successfully identified) passionately explains the good Doc's plight at the beginning of each episode thusly:

"And so Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once was wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap... will be the leap home."

Remember? Oh screw it. Here's a clip.



How does this relate to me? Well, it kinda goes like this. Every time I went out on a first date, I would cross my fingers and hope that this would be my very last first date. I fantasized that every first kiss would be my last first kiss. And, well... you get the picture.

Clearly this resulted in much disappointment. My best friend's husband came up with the solution. He challenged me, actually he required me, to date at least 20 guys before I was allowed to search for "the one."

His challenge made a whole lot of sense. After all, before my divorce I had dated exactly three guys; my ex-husband, my college boyfriend who cheated on me with six of my friends, and the guy I took to the Homecoming dance Senior year of High School (who turned out to be gay.) Not exactly a stellar track record.

[Oops. A friend just reminded me. I went on four official dates before my marriage. The fourth was with a marine who told me over dinner, "The date's not over 'til you do me." Actually, he used far more crass language, but I thought I'd give you the PG-13 version. Needless to say, that's the date that'll never end!]

So, here we are, four years (and one dismal 1 1/2 year long relationship) later and this week I'm set to out with #21 and #22. (Yeah, I know! Two dates in one week. It's a big one.)

Have I learned all I need to learn? Well, no. Not everything. But, I certainly have much more realistic expectations. I've worked up a pretty decent list of what I'm looking for. And, I've got a lot of fantastic stories. I'll share them with you someday. But, for today...you just get the list.

20. Anderson Cooper (no, not the real one.)
19. Not fat, not sweaty, and not cheap.
18. Speed dater who was be fatter, older, and less charming than I remembered.
17. The Man
16. Crazy C
15. Speed dater whose name I've forgotten.
14. Tortillas and Tequila
13. The Russian
12. I HAVE NO IDEA. DOES ANYONE REMEMBER WHO I'M FORGETTING?
11. The Dr. Who Bit Me
10. Bob
9. C, the 1st
8. Pee Boy
7. What do you mean you don't want kids?
6. The First Boy I Ever Asked Out
5. The Australian Boy
4. Paul with a P
3. The Republican
2. The Flirt
1. He Who Shall Not Be Named

There it is. My list of 20. Good for me.

So, will #21 (or #22 for that matter) be the charm? I doubt it. All I'm hoping for is to have a nice time and not get bit. I suppose that attitude means the exercise worked, eh?

Is it really so difficult?

Okay. Let's talk about photos, shall we? In my mind, the idea of an online dating photo is to sell yourself. You want to look like YOU, so if you're gray or balding or overweight you don't want to put up a photo of yourself from 20 years ago. But, you know, accentuate the positive, distract from the negative, and most important of all..try to tell me something about yourself. Let's start with what I consider to be a good one.


See? Cute. He's smiling, so you get the sense he's a happy person. He clearly loves his dog, which is important. Dog lovers should attempt to attract other dog owners. The photo at least maintains the illusion that it was taken on the spur of the moment, and not as part of some sort of awkward take-my-photo-for-match session.

Now, granted, our friend looks a little scruffy. (I'm talking about the guy, not the dog!) Let's see if he cleans up well.


Oh nice! Not only does he clean up well, but he has friends, too. His friends look nice. Nobody's drooling drunk. Everybody looks like they're having a good time. These look like people I might like to meet. Job well done!


Now. For a look at some of the less-than-fortunate choices.



So, if you're gonna post a photo of yourself in a stupid hat, you better be smiling. If you can't have a sense of humor when wearing a 1-up mushroom on your head, there's really something wrong. Also, maybe this is just because my ex dragged me into too many mall video game stores, but video game stores are notorious for their lack of female clientele. If you want to attract a girl, try posting a picture of yourself in a place she might like to go.


Okay, first let's talk about professional photo shoots for online dating. Just don't do it. Every single one of this guy's photos are clearly from the same photo shoot. And the photographer has a penchant for stupid poses. What does this photo say about this guy? It says he doesn't have a friend willing to take his photo for free, he THINKS he's a deep thinker, and he wants you to know that he spent too much money on his watch.




This is his only photo. Was it taken by some ant crawling across his crumb covered desk? Are his eyes closed, or just very squinty? Is he singing along to his iPod, or was he just thoughtful enough to put in headphones while watching porn at work? This photo brings up far more questions than it answers.



I actually think this is a kinda cool photo. Nice lighting. Interesting expression. But, this doesn't say "date me" as much as it says "I'm a serial killer and you should run away!" Seriously, the online dating world is a scary place. You never know what kind of weirdo you're gonna meet. So, try to start things off in a friendly, happy way. Not by making us wonder what kind of deep trauma has caused you to have such a hollow soul.

You might be awesome. You might be cute and funny and smart. But, if I were to agree to meet you at my local watering hole, how would I know which guy at the bar is you?

Where to begin? Oh...I know. PUT ON A SHIRT! Then, taken the earbud out of your ear, smile, and get someone to take the photo for you. This photo tells me that you have no friends, go on vacation by yourself, and fail to use enough sunscreen.


Beyond the obvious technical problems with this photo, what's with the dopey expression? Also, if those were my ears, I'd try not to accentuate them.



I give up...

Let's give this a try...

Okay, so I'm over the age of 35, divorced, and happy. My job is crazy cool. I have a comfortable apartment near the city, a cute car, and enough creature comforts to make me feel like a respectable American consumer. And, I'm nowhere near satisfied. I'm not a girl who's meant to be single. I did the math the other day. In the 18 years since I really started dating, I've been coupled up for 15 years.

By "coupled up" I don't mean just dating someone casually. I'm only counting the relationships where I eventually moved in with the guy. And, yeah, it's always me moving in with him. I'm afraid that probably says something about my dating history as well.

A little less than a year ago, I got myself out of a pretty crappy dating situation. To be fair, it was a really, really crappy dating situation. Afterward, I tried to take the time to be really single, get back in touch with myself, think about what I really want out of a relationship, blah, blah, blah and yadda, yadda, yadda.

So, a few months ago I dove back into the dating world in earnest. Let me tell you...it sucks ass. I mean, it's really, really bad. The last time I was single I was 34, and let me tell you, there is a world of difference between pre-35 and post-35. When I was 34, a bunch of guys in their early 40s wanted to date me, and I was fine with that. Just 2 1/2 years later, I'm lucky if the guys who contact me are in their early 50s.

I've spent a lot of time over the past little while sending dating updates to my also-dating and used-to-be-dating friends. So, rather than typing out an email, sending it to a friend, copying it into another email, sending it off to another friend, wash, rinse, repeat, I thought I'd just put it all in one place. So...here goes!

The day I got desperate enough to email cancer guy.

So, this morning I woke up to this fabulous email in my box from K, who's taken to sending me her match.com matches (now that she's all happily coupled up thanks to eHarmony!)

RE: your soul mate awaits
Okay, so this guy screams you. bos___
No joke. I read his profile and even his writing screams you. What do you think?

So, I check out Mr. bos___. Tall. Kinda cute. Smiling. (I like smilers.) Outdoorsy. And, best of all, under his "For Fun" question he writes:

I can be very long winded. Very.

Dude. I get you. We are one.

So, I read further. He's funny. Optimistic. Open Minded. An NPR listener. (This is a big plus in my book.) Respectful of religion but not actually religious. Tall. Under 40. And he wants kids. Basically, he's my perfect man.

Then, squished in between all his fabulous qualities, is the following qualifier:

I was diagnosed with a rare type of bone cancer. I am currently treating a relapse of this cancer and am unfortunately currently going through chemotherapy. While I am VERY hopeful that I will be well in the relatively near future, I realize that no matter what I have to offer as a person that my situation is more than most people would be willing to deal with.

I am not daunted. Cancer guy is perfect. I will not be deterred. Sure, he hasn't logged on in more than three weeks. He could be too sick to log in. He could have found the love of his life. Or he could have just gotten tired of the match.com game.

None of these possibilities deter me. Match requires me to send 5 emails to "new" people every month if I want to cash in on my six month guarantee, and cancer guy is looking like the perfect email recipient.

So, I send the following. I figure it's best to tell the truth...

Let me tell you a little story...

So, my friend K sent me an email this morning with the subject line, "your soul mate awaits." This is K. She likes to pick out guys for me. Usually she's way off base, but I always check out the guys she sends anyway. So, I see your profile and I see that, for once, K's actually chosen someone I find interesting. A few minutes later I send an email to K saying, "Girl...but what about the cancer?"

Yeah, you were so verbose, that K didn't get to that part!

I see you haven't been on here in a few weeks, so I hope that's happy news (like you found your soul mate without my friend K's help) and not bad news health-wise. Even though it increases the likelihood that you're happily partnered up, I hope you're well and should you log on again someday, feel free to say hello!

I have a little dream that this email will make cancer guy smile someday when he's in need of a little pick-me-up, but...who knows?