Recently, I changed my online dating status from, living in New York, to living in New England (where I’m from originally). I figured I would take my friend Julie’s advice and fish in a local pond, seeing that I am seriously considering moving back after having been gone for years.
Yup, you read that right. I’m pretty much over the NYC thing. Nothing really keeping me there except my Monday through Friday job. Now that we are in the middle of a recession, my hours are reduced to working Monday through Thursday. If you do the math…..here, I’ll help you….that’s a 20% reduction in my salary.
The obvious question I ask myself every day now is, why am living so far away from my family and friends, when I could find another job for the same money back home?
And if I move back home, maybe my the chances of finding someone who is like-minded and attractive will get better.
Having that in mind, I decide to jump on PlentyofFish. It’s a FREE online dating website – I refuse to pay for a dating service anymore, especially because it seems like it doesn’t even work. Now I know why my friends call it Plenty of Crap and Plenty of White Trash.
Maybe I should ask for a refund.
I log in and notice that I have emails from the two guys whose profiles caught my attention.
The first one lives 20 miles away, in a town that I’ve never even heard of before.
The other guy was living in my home town, 39-years old, 6’3” and is a mortgage broker.
I wasn’t too sure about the guy up north. I was attracted to him, but he didn’t have too much to say in his dating profile, plus he was AA for two years. Great for him, but could I date someone who didn’t drink? Probably not, so I decided to focus on Mortgage Guy and replied to his email.
Mortgage Guy and I emailed each other a few times, then graduated to texting for four days. I had hopes that he would actually dial my number and call me, but he never did.
So, fine. I broke tradition and called him first during my Thursday night drive back to New England for my long weekend. He picks up. The conversation was good, it was easy to talk to him. I put out there that I could meet up with him, but he said he was unavailable because he had his 6-year-old daughter all weekend, but that he would try to work something out.
I ask him if he knew my brother, Nathan. He said he did because he had dated one of his friend’s ex-girlfriends. (No surprise there.)
At least, we didn’t have to worry about Rule #2.
We wrap up our conversation. He tells me to drive safely and that he’d be in touch on Friday.
Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m running around doing errands with Mommer. Mortgage Guy is texting me all day, trying to figure out a way we could meet and he finally comes up with an idea to meet him at 4:00pm at Starbucks.
Starbucks? Really? There was only one in town.
Yes, he says, that one, because he goes there every Friday afternoon, with his daughter. He suggests that we could “accidentally bump into each other.”
I finish up errands with Mommer and I head over to Starbucks. I’m there on time, I buy a Tall Skinny Vanilla Latte and a place to sit where he can’t miss me and start reading my book, “The War of Art” .
He was a little late, but there was no mistaking him when he walked in. He was definitely 6’3” and had a presence – or was it the big smile, across his face that gave him away? Clearly, he liked what he saw.
I noticed he dutifully held his daughter’s hand as he slowly approaches me. We say hello to each other and then he introduces me to his little girl. She’s as adorable as can be and reminds me of Bernice in Hope Floats.
Like her daddy, she’s got this little edge to her – and just like Bernice, her pink glasses are also too big for her face.
I get up, so we can move to where there is more comfortable seating. We decide to sit in the big soft chairs in the back of the room – his daughter settles in her chair, right across from us. She’s content with her pumpkin bread, hot chocolate and her Game Boy. I smile, as I’m watching her, and then I turn to Mortgage Guy.
Finally, we are face-to-face. Gosh he’s really cute, I think to myself. Great smile and I’m immediately attracted to his deep man-voice – oh, and big man hands, too. Thank God the physical attraction is there *ding!* and I’m thinking it’s mutual, as he just can’t seem to get that smile off of his face.
We end up talking about the basics – you know why are you still single? He doesn’t believe me when I tell him that it’s not me. That I believe the choices at my age are limiting. I add jokingly, “All the good ones are taken already.”
He laughs, but doesn’t buy it. He can’t fathom how I’ve made it this far without being married – then he accuses me of being a “Runaway Bride.”
Runaway Bride? Me? Hell, no. That didn’t sound like a compliment and I liked it better when he was calling me “meatball” earlier while we were texting.
We end up talking for an hour and a half until I had to excuse myself, so I wouldn’t be late meeting my girlfriends for wine and pizza.
We hug each other good-bye. He tells me that next weekend he’ll be available to see me again, because he won’t have his daughter.
Great! I told him I was looking forward to it.
Overall, I liked him. He was much better looking in person, than he was in his photos. And, of course, being 6’3” didn’t hurt. I was definitely up for another date with him.
LESSON LEARNED: Driving home I remembered that Mortgage Guy had told me that he had once been a red head. You couldn’t really tell now, because of his bald head, but definitely had the freckles and coloring for a red head. That didn’t matter to me. What did matter was that I remember saying I didn’t think I would ever be into a guy that is a red head. I guess my lesson here is you should never say never. Because as I have learned, I usually end up eating my own words.
Crap! I’ve also said I would never date a short guy….
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