Waiting For A Glass Slipper

Mr._Tango (read here about our date) wrote me days after our meeting, simply asking what I thought of our time together.

“Oh no,” I groaned after reading his brief email.

“What’s the matter?” Janine, my new roommate asked.

Janine moved in only a month ago and I’m learning quickly how different it is having a female instead of a male sharing accommodation. It can be like one big pajama eyebrow-dying party. (And no Gaboo, there is no mirror kissing. Wherever did you get that image in mind?)

“Mr._Tango wants to know how I feel about our meeting. What am I going to say? Why would he write that? Wouldn’t most guys write and say let’s meet again if they’re interested? He wouldn’t write at all if he wasn’t—right?”

“Right,” Janine finished drying the dishes and left me to my thoughts.

Janine actually felt inspired to join the same dating site—after she heard me talking late into the night with a potential suitor on the phone. Now, she’s after me to take her pictures so she can post her profile. I’m teaching Janine all the tricks of the trade, so to speak. One has to have a picture, as men are visual and do not want to set themselves up for disappointment.

“Women misrepresent themselves a lot, Adrienne,” Michael, my ex-roommate lamented to me after a disappointing date.

“I’m sure they do. Tell me.”

“This woman wrote that for her body type, she rated herself as ‘average’. Now, you tell me in what context does 200 pounds rate as average?”

I coached Janine. One of the play strategies is, post a picture that depicts you as you are now, and not ten years ago.

“The last thing you want to see on your date’s face, Janine, is a look of disappointment. You want it to light up.”

 

Anyway, back to Tango_Man and my reply. I finally responded:

Yes, it was a nice evening. I thought it went pretty well. I’ve learned not to judge a first meeting too harshly and immediate fireworks are kind of rare. ;-) I’d be game for another meet if you like.

 

Are you surprised he didn’t write back? No, I’m not either. That coach was leaving and I gave it a push. He needed a high chemistry level, and I was honest—it just wasn’t there.

Oh, and a note on the Candy_Man. I received an email from him a few days after our dinner date. I wrote and told him that I didn’t think he was ready to commit. I also indicated that he should probably look around the candy store a while longer—just to find out what he wanted in a partner. He responded:
 


I will write you from time to time. You gave me truth and honesty… I respect that. Here is mine… I like you. I am hoping that the compatible girl I dated just a few times will remember. But I need, as you say, to be out dating for awhile. Maybe you have taught me that a future searching may not be so sweet. You’re insightful… I want to commit, but I need to find most compatible person.

In my fishing world… ‘tight lines’ is an expression for fishing correctly and increasing your odds for a catch…in the vernacular a ‘hook up’… I don’t mean this in a sexual sense… it is a good saying and not offensive.

Tight lines… girl with the green eyes.

 

Yes, he spoke often of his passion for angling. Tight lines… girl with the green eyes. Sigh.

I wrote back and thanked him for the dinner, explaining that I want to meet someone who is ready to commit. I put my own line back into the water.

 

The difference with dating now, among such abundance that the internet brings, one needn’t mope around when the romance turns sour. Both of these men held promise for me. Internet dating works for someone with a touch of attention-deficit, and the need to be constantly stimulated mentally. I’ve been dumped and hurt and I’ve had my share of heartbreak. But back in the ‘Olden Days,’ a woman would have to wait for the next barn dance—possibly the following season—for a chance to see who’s out there and available. Women and men were not so quick to dump someone in the recycle bin, because it may have been the last time they’d have a chance to even meet someone remotely desirable. But now, dear reader, barely a tear was shed—when I look down and there it is: a new email.

“Oh, who is this?” and upon opening the letter and seeing an attractive face along with it, the heartbreak fades.

I do get swept up and have that little daydream of us together, living in marital bliss. I admit to imagining the marriage potential without even meeting them. If I’m intrigued, my mind goes there. I imagine life with someone financially stable and more, how that would make my life much easier, having to work less, write and play more. How nice it would be to laze about in bed on days off, watching movies and spooning lemon meringue pie into each others mouths. He would love to watch Out Of Africa with me while the snow falls outside, and us cuddled cozy and warm, listening to the fire crackling…

I try not to, knowing I should have outgrown that girlish dream of the Princess finding her Prince. I watched a video this morning of William and Kate exchanging their vows and I unabashedly wept at their innocence, their hope and love for each other. What woman wasn’t moved by William’s flushed face while he recited his vows with such seriousness. He, a true Prince, found his Princess and, like the fairy stories I was brought up on, will live happily ever after. But we know that even royal unions don’t always end so sweet.

My dear friend asked me last night—if I found the right man, would I be able to sign off the dating sites?

“Of course I would! And when I was seriously involved with Buddha_Man, I didn’t go on at all. I was so happy to be offline and working on a relationship. No, I won’t have any problem at all.”

I know I’m still living the fairy tale, waiting for my Prince with just the right glass slipper.

 

Waiting For A Glass Slipper © 2011 Adrienne S Moody. Read the latest Adrienne exploit on Now.readthisplease.

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