Anything For The Dog

About a month ago I came across a very intriguing profile on Match.com, forgot everything I'd learned by being on that site (see below) and sent an 'electronic wink' into the universe thus making the acquaintance of someone who has quite frankly turned and continues to turn my world upside down in an entirely wonderful way.

The wink itself, fortuitous as it wound up being, would never have happened had I taken a moment to reflect upon my experiences with Match com dates. Without rehashing too many details I will simply list a few things I learned along the way:

a) Beware of any man who lists his height as 5' 7", 5'8", or 5'9". This man is 5'5" with very few exceptions (the most notable of which being the man who is even shorter than your own 5'2"). Note that I am not prejudiced against short people, having been one my entire life. What I am against are outright fabrications such as lying about your height. Sooner or later, say -- the moment you meet -- the truth is coming out, so why not just be honest in the first place? I don't go around saying I am 5'4" or have ever been able to see what's on top of my fridge without a stepladder.

b) Never meet for dinner unless you're planning to pick up the check. Or at least insisting on it. Maybe this should be rephrased, something like, 'be careful with the man who insists on paying, orders for both of you, and says more than once that he really enjoys paying the expense of a truly fine meal. It could just be my less than stellar luck but I experienced this a few times and each time, although I read the menu quite thoroughly and did not see myself listed, my dates erroneously assumed that somehow I was to be served up with the coffee.

c) Do not go out with the man who is 'still processing' a past relationship. While this may initially strike you as a sensitive statement clearly demonstrating he is not a 'love them and leave them' guy but honestly cares to insure full closure before moving forward, this is not what it is. What it is is the man who will be nearly in tears before the entree arrives and who will inspire you to offer what little you know -- not knowing either him or his lost love that well and at all -- about how to patch things up, move forward, and ride off together into the proverbial sunset. You will pick up the check because you feel like it's at least a nice gesture. You will return home and be sorry you missed a great Heather Locklear movie on Lifetime while you were out.

d) Do not agree to meet the man whose profile pictures are 'a little out of date' unless you are prepared to meet his grandfather outside the coffee house. I'm OK with dark hair that is gray in reality. Dark hair that has disappeared altogether is another story.

I could go on but those are probably the key points. I don't want to make it appear all bad because nothing is all bad. There were some enjoyable dates. Give or take the one who was married and the one or two who really just wanted to date as many women as possible.

I was maybe a little disillusioned when I sent that wink but not for one minute was I entirely skeptical. I put the same faith into romance that I put into every Michener novel I read: It may bog down a bit in the beginning but there's always a good chance the story may be great in the long run.

I had dinner with this person, whom I will call Roy mainly because I would like the name to be limited to one syllable and preferably to begin with an R. This was a little over one month ago (I can even tell you the exact date, the location, what I ate and what I was wearing right down to accessories but if I do that you might start thinking -- and deservedly so -- that I am one of those hopeless romantics who remembers such things) and as I mentioned, it's been wonderful but also in many ways, completely out of character.

I have missed more than one Monday night book club and finally emailed Sara today, letting her know I would need to alter my schedule and attend only one Monday per month. Which she was perfectly OK with and the only caveat she held me to is that I will have to host that meeting at my place, it will cost me an extra bottle of wine, and for sure there would be no excuse for ever not finishing a book, not even if she picked another Norman Mailer to put me to sleep in the first two chapters.

Wednesday nights are Emmanuel's and now are becoming Tuesday nights because Holly's babysitter schedule changed. These nights are important. Not only do I refresh my own understanding of kindergarten vocabulary words and update my checker playing strategies, I get to spend a few hours with a wonderful friend and have the universe -- or parts of it -- explained to me by her kids. Taken altogether it's not quite as awesome as say, Christmas mornings, but it comes very close.

Wednesday night is now unscheduled. If, that is, you remove laundry, shopping, and other errands.

Thursday is writer's group. I can miss here or there -- but can't imagine ever giving it up.

Then you factor in the Basic Work Schedule as opposed to the Work Schedule Determined by Client Needs (aka the 'forward your mail to the office until the program concludes schedule) and I find myself facing not a dilemma but a situation I haven't encountered in years. Nearly nineteen of them:

Much as I can tend to be somewhat of a creature of habit and upholder of routines, I very much would like to have more time available to spend with Roy. Because I have enjoyed every moment of the time I have spent with him, blocks of time so long in duration and so out of character for me that Lainie has taken to calling me "Ms. Never Home" on the rare occasions we meet in the foyer. The last several weeks of my life have been so uncompletely like me that even Holly asked where in the world I'd put my personal space and then added she hoped it stayed missing for a long time.

I can't really speak to that but I will say it's been, and continues to be, a happy time for me. And as I'm constitutionally endowed with not just a right but a patriotic obligation to pursue happiness, I fully intend to continue doing so.

Not just for me, but for Basil who, much as she loves me, has been a bit down in the dumps when not in the company of the man who shares not only his furniture but his cheeseburger and fries.

I can't blame her, just console her with Beggin' Strips and Chicken Jerky. A lot of Beggin' Strips and a lot of Chicken Jerky. So with that in mind, anyone can clearly see a rearrangement of my schedule and routines is needed. I'd do just about anything to keep my dog from getting fat and she can really only handle so much consolation.