How I Found Mr. Absolutely Right

If a career could be made picking losers, I’d be a CEO. Over the years, I’ve been with more mama’s boys and “holdin’ out for management position” guys than I can count.

Unfortunately, I was cursed with the gene that makes a woman trust what a man says by virtue of the fact that he says it aloud.

Ironically, the man who said the least up front has proven to be the most humble, sensual, steadfast, intelligent, funniest, and most sensitive, therefore most attractive man I’ve ever known. And did I mention that he’s an attentive listener?

Swoon, girls.

I’d had enough of the constant string of losers marching through my door over the past twenty years since I moved to the geographically-isolated peninsula that is my home. I decided I was going to try the Internet and online dating. If nothing else, maybe I’d find a pen pal.

How embarrassing is it to be so desperate for an unattached, decent man that you are willing to submit to multiple choice romantic and personal questions from a stranger? Who may or may not be what he alleges?

Maybe I got lucky. I like to think that it was meant to happen all along, and all that either of us needed was the other’s contact information.

The day I posted my profile online, I was contacted by a man who wanted my picture. I’d put myself out there on a whim at a particularly lonely moment and hadn’t even considered that part. Against all advice, I took a goofy picture with my cell phone in the bathroom.  That man and I dated for several months.

Ironically, the man I was meant to spend my life with would see that lousy, stupid picture and get a sense that I was kind of off-the-wall and flippant. I’m sure that now he knows me, he realizes I am a boring, ordinary, completely reliable kinda gal. And of course he knows what I look like. I believe he loves me, regardless.

It started out harmlessly enough. My man sent me a fast-track email request via the dating website. He’d grown up in a small town a few miles away from my own and recognized the name of the tiny place where I live. He was just saying hello.

That first what-a-small-world email was a tiny seed that grew into a forest. I checked out the profile he had posted. He was very cute, and his writing exposed intelligence and humor, so I responded quickly. Fortunately, we skipped the usual multiple-choice, brokered banter provided at the website and soon became friends.

For four months my friend and I exchanged emails and text messages. He filled me in on his social activities, including dates with a long stream of women from his area. Once in a while he’d send pictures of himself while he was out having fun with his friends. He has lots of friends.

Those brief exchanges gave me an absurd amount of pleasure. There were a few phone calls scattered here and there. He has a deep, sexy voice that I could listen to for hours.

With every word my guy spoke or wrote to me in those first months, I fell in love a little more. One day the realization that I was in love with my long distance friend slammed me hard. He was my first thought when I woke and the last thing in my brain before I closed my eyes at night. Imagine my relief when I found out my feelings were reciprocated.

The beginning of the fifth month of our relationship offered an opportunity for us to meet. I had a conference to attend at a college that happened to be less than an hour from his home. I made arrangements to arrive a few days early and meet him.

To say that I was nervous and anxious about that first meeting is laughable. Terrified is closer to the truth. My boyfriend was so gracious and pleasant over the course of the visit that I quickly relaxed and got past my fears. As crazy as it sounds, before the conclusion of those first few days we had together, I knew I’d never want to be with any other man but him.

In about a month, we will celebrate our first anniversary together. We’ll mark it by the date of his first message to me. With a little luck and a lot of commitment, we’ll have decades of them before us.

My love and I live on opposite sides of the state. We drive six hours one way to have a single date. Needless to say, our dates tend to cover the span of days at a time. Every mile is worth it. Eventually I will find a way to go to him and stay for good.

Oh, did I forget to mention this? He’s a marathoner. Can run over 26 miles in the span of a few hours and keep going. Yep. He’s in awesome physical shape.

Back off, ladies. He’s all mine, and I intend to keep him.