Oct 312011
 

Our date is at 7:00. As usual I am on time, and as usual I’m the first to arrive spoiling any chance of making a grand entrance. I take a seat at the bar. The bartender asks what I’d like to order. I order water. I don’t want to order a drink, just in case he doesn’t show up.

At 7:10, a man who looks somewhat like my date walks into the room. I’ve never seen him in person, only his pictures on the dating website. The photographs appear to belong to the same man only this man is a good bit heavier.

He has a warm smile, firm handshake, and he smells good. As he takes a seat, I steal a glance at his belly; it protrudes over his belt. Didn’t he write on his profile that he had an athletic build?

Don’t be so superficial, I chide myself. Give this guy a chance. I actually like stocky men. Stocky, maybe. But this guy has a belly, and his face is bloated.

Put looks aside. You two appear to have a lot in common.

We talk about our work, past relationships, and spirituality. I like him. Taking another glance at his belly I know I’ve lost the battle. The fantasy I’d built around our life together quickly dissolves like an Alka Seltzer hitting cold water. Chemistry is a funny thing. You either feel it, or you don’t. I don’t feel it.

I take a deep breath. At the very least, this guy could be a friend. I like that thought. Still, I am sad, and I’m disappointed. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I had really thought this man could be “the one.”

 

Jul 082011
 

Sherry and I were sipping Manhattans at one of our favorite hangouts. Outside, the bitter winter wind was blowing, stirring up the freshly fallen snow. The scene reminded me of a Christmas snow globe I had as a child.

Maybe it was the weather, our friendship, possibly the bourbon—I was feeling warm and cozy.

“Tell me about your ideal partner,” I asked Sherry.

“That’s easy,” she said. “He’s tall, stocky, and in shape. He’s within four years of my age, spiritual, and kind. Smart, considerate, and totally in love with me. And that’s just for starters. Do you want me to go on?”

I laughed. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Thought about it? Ha! I’ve written an ideal partner profile.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“I thought so too, but not for the reasons you think. One day I had an epiphany: my list was far more valuable than a simple wish list inventorying characteristics I want in a soul mate. By studying it, I could discover those parts of myself that I’ve had disowned.”

“That’s heavy. Tell me more,” I probed.

“I’ll give you an example. One of things on my list is a man who is gentle and strong. Well, I’m gentle and strong. It’s time I accepted that about myself.”

She continued. “I also listed that I want a man who’s good with money. Why am I projecting that onto someone else? I need to buckle down and get better about managing my money.”

“So, it’s all about becoming whole and not looking for someone to complete you?” I suggested.

“You got it.”

It’s no wonder why I value my friendship with Sherry. She’s one wise woman.
We continued our conversation until late into the evening, but I couldn’t wait to get home and write my own ideal partner profile to see what disowned aspects of myself are waiting to be reclaimed.