Giving My Own Judgement Another Chance

For those unfamiliar with my piece of the cyber universe here into which I regularly cast my observations, musings and the occasional coherent thought, allow me to bring you current.

I have had a series of regrettable first dates brought about by my lising myself on match.com. I was hesitant. It was my ex-husband who insisted I try it. "You have a lot to offer," he said, "and you won't meet them sitting at home. Get out there and keep your social skills sharp." Well who could argue with that? He made it sound more like attending a seminar than actual dating.

Once listed, the website did what it does: Suggested a few matches (um, no thanks) and made it possible for other people on the site to see my profile and email if interested in getting to know me.

An email, I naively thought, says a great deal about a person. So blindly trusting my own judgement (note to self: not always the best game plan) I proceeded to date.

The first two experiences were brutal. Nowhere in my email exchanges with Bachelor #1 did he even hint at being still so enamored of his ex-wife that the mere act of waking every morning was almost too painful to be borne. No, this minor detail was withheld until we were not halfway through dinner and he was blinking back man crocodile tears and attempting to form a complete sentence without his voice breaking (wasn't happening. His voice had other, very broken plans). I wound up spending almost two hours counseling him as best I could on how to win her back and insisted on picking up the check.

Bachelor #2, so positive in his emails and chipper on the phone, was a complete black cloud in person. Here he was, he said, on a dating site. How pathetic was he? No more so, I thought but didn't say, than your date, except I saw nothing pathetic about it.

Bachelor #3 had posted pictures that were twelve years old. If he'd had any hair left -- which he did not -- it would have been as gray as I felt when we met outside the restaurant.

Bachelors #4 and #5 were not even five feet six, a deal breaker because they'd claimed to be 6' 2". Bachelor #6 assumed splitting the check implied rights to follow me home (I hadn't even wanted him to walk me to the parking garage) and Bachelor #7 was nice enough.

We had a companionable hour together having a drink after work and OK, even if he was one foot three inches taller than my 5' 2" (yes, the universe has a sense of humor at me for disregarding the short guys), it was pleasant enough and I would have seen him again except for one thing.

I felt no connection.

I'm huge about connections. Not the best at describing them in detail but I know when I feel one.

And I just hadn't.

Only somewhat discouraged (it is not in my nature -- ever -- to be anything more than somewhat discouraged. There's always a different way to look at things), I retreated into my weekend determined to regroup, so to speak, and indulge in my own odd but effective restorative therapy. Don't try this at home but here goes:

I refinished a chair in antique white;
I made a pot roast in the slow cooker;
I broke out the Cuisinart and made salsa;
I finished reading that very heavy Norman Mailer novel and buzzed through two Dave Barry's to purge my brain;
I walked the dog several times;
I put on mismatched sweats, donned a baseball cap and pulled my hair into a ponytail, watched two chick flicks on HBO, one Lifetime movie, and two episodes of HGTV's Design On A Dime.

Life immediately looked better and after a good night's sleep I returned to the computer, conducting my own search and was bold enough to send an electronic wink to someone who intrigued me with what I thought (OK, so there I went thinking again but I'm giving my judgement another chance) was a great, sensitive, honest profile.

It was only when I delved further into his profile and noted his astrology sign that I forgave Cosmic Cupid for all the previous disastrous dates.

He was a Gemini.

Like me.

Not to put too much on astrology, but there has never been a Gemini I didn't connect with. My most long standing girlfriends are Geminis -- we're the only people who can keep up with us. Because a Gemini is forever thinking, dreaming, designing, imagining, creating, and generally always, always talking.

Cupid only once blessed me with a Gemini romance. Back when I was twenty-two and my heart could stand it.

We emailed throughout the weekend. He was as intriguing, and genuinely nice, on the phone as via email.

I am meeting him for dinner this evening. I am hopeful -- because that's just the way I am -- that in person nothing changes.

That ridiculous Tom Cruise movie (and aren't they all ridiculous?) had a line in it that said, "You had me at hello." This profile had me the same way and very intrigued where it said, "I don't need another person to be happy, but I would like to find that special someone to share life with and possibly grow old with, even if I haven't gotten it right up until now."

My thoughts exactly.