The short story reads as follows…
I was dating this dude in DC over the course of the last year. For a variety of reasons we weren’t a fit. The aftermath of recognizing that we were far from the same page left me a bit despondent. Deflated. And lacking all hope for the horizon. I slogged through the final months of winter. I gained weight. I shut myself up in my apartment. I fell out of belief that I’d ever find someone. I counted the days to my 35th birthday when I would join the ranks of single women inhabiting the “high-risk pregnancy” category. I contemplated freezing eggs and I joked about being turkey basted by my best guy friend who also happens to be gay. My father nervously started pulling up SPCA websites and suggesting that I adopt a dog; an idea he’d otherwise been adamantly against. (Me having a dog that is. Perspecitive has a keen way of changing.)
Then via Facebook I met someone. Just over a month ago. It wasn’t fireworks at first. I questioned compatibility. There was a good deal in common but not a great deal. The major stand-out for this one was his southern gentleman quality. I mused, “he was raised right” as we say down South. He opened doors. He called. He asked about my day. He brought gifts…all the way from Africa that is. He was polite to servers at restaurants. He listened with genuine intent. He met my family. Shook hands with my father. Did all the right things. Enough so that the lack of compatibility slowly faded. It was a quick turn-around. The charm took hold and chemistry found it’s way.
Until he stood me up.
On a Sunday. Via four text messages. Declaring he was seeing someone else and that while I was wonderful our two hour distance posed a challenge to the local woman he had also started seeing that might very well be “the one.” Southern charm and good upbringing went out the window. Such things warrant a phone call in my book. Especially hours before you’re supposed to be at my house. Too much to ask?
The night he stood me up I had bought salmon for him to grill. There I sat with $50 of food and pride diminishing. I had two choices. One, to drive down the old, the very old, road that there are no good men left. Or two, to take action. To do something about the fact that I’m tired of being single.
That afternoon I signed up for match. com. It would not be the first time I’d online dated. It would be, however, the first time I honestly put it all out there. I wrote my profile and spoke to why I was signing up and asked for what I am really looking for. It would also be the first time (thanks to aforementioned asshole that stood me up) that I believed I’m a good catch. It’s taken me a long time to arrive here on this road of dating. To believe that my flaws (and there are many) are tempered by the good of who I am. I’m not looking for perfect, I’m just looking for patience. With a serious dose of fun and whole-hearted living.
I copied my match profile below. Take the ride with me, friends. And if you know someone that fits the bill drop me a line. The good news is that just two weeks into it I’ve received lots of offers for salmon dinner.
Here’s to gettin’ after it and to already having restored faith that good guys do exist.
somerlynn77 (match.com screen name)
Titled: In search of a grill-master…
My motivation for signing up for match is the two pieces of salmon in my fridge that would have been grilled for the date I otherwise would have had this evening. Needless to say, he was a real charmer. So I thought, “Somer, let’s not let one arse of an individual ruin it for the rest of the good dudes out there. Get your tail on match and make magic happen this summer.” I don’t always listen to such voices but here we are:
Me. Two pieces of salmon. Laptop open. Pride intact. Gettin’ after it.
Now that we have that bit of nonsense out of the way…
These next few months are filled with lots of travel (both work and personal) which is just how I like it. If you have good restaurant suggestions for Seattle or Philly drop me a line. Note that someone in the Philly tourism office deserves a raise because I’m telling you the city hosts more conferences/meetings than any other. Miami, Vegas, where you at?
When I’m not traveling for work, I spend a lot of weekends at the coast. A beach just outside of Wilmington. I have a core, fundamental, unwavering belief that the beach is mandatory part of human happiness. Not to get all existential on you here, but honestly, when was the last time you came off a beach day in a bad mood? If you did, it’s time to change the company you keep–Send her packing. (She’s probably needs to be having dinner with dude who stood me up.) We’d have way more fun anyway. I’m working on my corn hole game. I’ve yet to win but I have hopes.
When I’m not playing in the sun, I’m drumming up business for a global NGO that conducts research in developing nations. I have the rare fortune of saying that I love my job and feel uber blessed to have landed it just over four years ago. Working in science has been a pleasant surprise after eight years of chasing an entertainment dream in NYC, LA and short stint in Maui. When everyone else was partnering in their 20′s and making babies, I was chasing Hollywood. I still have writing dreams but am far more interested in being back in my hometown near family.
My family is loads of fun. I have a niece and nephew that can do no wrong in my eyes. It’s a problem. Truly. Check ‘em out in my pics. Can you blame me?
As for you… I’m staring down 35 this year and I’m learning to throw the list away. I’ve dated all walks of life and have been surprised more times than not at how attributes or characteristics that you thought would prevent connection did not. I’m also learning that what looks good on paper doesn’t always come off-the-page as well in person. I want someone to rock out with in conversation and on the dance floor. To do lots of out-loud laughing. I have an unfortunate penchant for wise-asses. If you bring humor with a smile, I’m game. There are some basics “musts” that you would need to check-off before emailing me.. Must be employed. Must read. Must remember to call their mama on mother’s day and her birthday. Must be a hugger. Must be comfortable (if a vegetarian) that I think steak is evidence that there is higher order. Must believe that text message does not replace significant conversations. Must want lots of love, lots of fun and lots of adventure in their life.
Hope to hear from you if you think we might click.