I am so totally impressed by this man.
First of all, he had the balls to go up against ME.
Second, he had the balls to put himself out there…in front of like, ummm…well the CYBER universe!
And lastly, or is it last? Who gives a shit, he has the balls to let me tell you his name. Later. Maybe, after you read it. I think. Anyway, here it is…the winningest blog entry. And I love it. And I’m proud to call it a The Truth Hurvitz addition.
Enjoy, it made me happy today. And actually, as I read it again, it made me cry. ;)
Everything you’re about to read is true except for the part about the knife. She did in fact lick it. That’s about as naughty a sentence I’m going to write. It felt good so I’ll write it again.
She did in fact lick it.
After my first post-divorce serious relationship fizzled I decided to go on line in search of a new one. (I’m already lying. My first post-divorce serious relationship did not fizzle. It exploded).
I hadn’t yet felt the need or certainly the desire to date on line. I’d done OK meeting women the traditional way (i.e., gym, grocery store, Facebook). But only hours after the explosion, when safely locked in my bedroom, in no mood for porn, I installed Tinder.
I thought Tinder was a website like Match which I had trolled but never subscribed to. I didn’t realize that once it was loaded I was out there.
I described in the profile section my simple life exactly as it was which turns out to appear boring to most women. All I was hoping for was someone that met two criteria:
1- I want to reach across the table and kiss her.
2- I want to go home and feel anxious for the next time we’d talk.
I felt like a kid in a candy store. For one day. Then came the ubiquitous, “There’s no one new around you”.
When I was in my early thirties I was told by a younger friend that “lunch is for pussies”. So now at almost 50 (with a lot of overhead) I spent way too much money on dinners with strangers. I learned a lot about myself. For example: I didn’t drink enough. I drank too much. My kids are young. My kids are old. I’m too Jewish. I’m not Jewish enough.
During the most expensive of these twenty or so dates, I received more flattery and praise than I’d ever heard from my ex-wife and ex-girlfriends combined. “You’re such a great dresser. How worldly and cultivated! You must be a great father. I’m so glad we met. You’re not like the other man-boys I meet on line”. Etc. Etc. Etc. As I was signing the bill, all puffed up, she said to me, “I really don’t feel a connection.” I laughed, went home, deactivated Tinder, and started going to the grocery store and to yoga more often.
After a self-induced dry spell through the dreaded holiday season I reactivated. My hope was that I would reappear as new meat. Disenchanted, my profile included a description of the composite of women I had met the first time around. It went something like this:
“Let me guess… You like the beach AND the mountains. You like to stay home cuddled on the sofa AND to go out in your little black dress and heels. You enjoy fancy restaurants AND eating hot dogs at college football games. You love live music. You have a sarcastic sense of humor. Your kids are the most important part of your life.”
Isn’t it safe to say that, except for a small population in North Korea, this describes most women?
I got one match.
In her picture she is hanging upside down tied to aerial silks and smiling. Her profile is a line from Shakespeare which I recognized (and wasted no time letting her know). There’s no mention of her culinary tastes or her wardrobe. Just nine words from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, uncredited.
We messaged back and forth for a day and actually spoke on the phone. How quaint! Not just another pen pal. We met the next day. For real for real. What do they say? Love at first sight? Yes, and love at second sight and so on and so on.
Every day I fall more deeply in love with her ocean blue eyes, bright smile, petite figure, perfect grammar, warm voice, fragrant hair, impeccable style, and even her table manners. Other women picked apart their food, smelled it before eating it, and licked their knives. She has no tattoos. Not on her ankle. Not on her lower back. She has one piercing in her left ear and one in her right. No others.
We read, do yoga, run, cook, talk, watch black-and-white movies, and live the same general lifestyles. The only television show we watch is Jeopardy. We do challenging crossword puzzles together. She doesn’t drink soda or chew gum. She hates staying in Bed and Breakfasts as much as I do.
It doesn’t make sense to me that I had trouble meeting such a spectacular woman in the three years prior. Most people make dating, love, and romance so complicated. I, on the other hand, had hoped for only two criteria.
She’s also “all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing”. (Rilke)