Not what I thought I was looking for. At all.
As a matter of fact, my Match profile so many months ago, when I was merely seeking a distraction for a few evenings until I started school, began like this:
Far be it for me to tell you that I'm your dream girl. Sure, I'm witty, intelligent, charming, sassy and, um, humble... Chances are, I'm not her. She's probably working at the desk around the corner from yours, cutting your neighbor's hair, married to some other guy or, if you're really lucky, the author of the very next profile you click. This isn't an effort to drive you away. I'm not specifically looking to be someones next wife -- though not saying it's impossible, just that it's not probable. But, hey, you won't know any of this until you finish reading my verbose profile and order a background check and bloodwork.Though I attracted a few entertaining smartasses, for the most part I found myself disgusted by winks and inane come-ons referencing nothing more than my looks or assumed bra size.
Then one Saturday morning after a delicious run, I found a lovely note waiting in my inbox. A kind young man wanted to tell me that he enjoyed my writing, noting that "nobody uses the word verbose in their profile" but that he was, in fact, looking for something more special than what I seemed to be seeking. Never one to be challenged, I responded somewhere in the realm of if it was really the right thing, I wouldn't turn away from it.
And from there a friendship was born. We quickly hopped from Match to facebook and enjoyed some truly beautiful exchanges. Meeting in person was going to be a greater challenge...he lived a million miles away, after all. Okay, sixty, but with my crazy kid schedule, it seemed unrealistic to try to get anything real started. He managed to find an excuse to come to my city for a couple of hours so we could take in a museum and walk the Plaza. It was sweet and fun, but my inner cynic was especially loud those days and I couldn't muster the effort to build something that would take so much perceived work.
We continued to exchange emails for a month or so, with my side of the communication dropping off fairly dramatically as school started. A month into classes, I planned a trip to his town to check out the university and shot him a note to see if we could meet for a drink and some quality conversation. He sweetly agreed (despite my recent disappearance), so after my meeting with the dean of the dietetics department and his workday, we found each other in quaint downtown Warrensburg. We picked up in a better-than-we-left-off place...no first date jitters...just casual fun. We caught up on Match escapades, children, jobs, school, life... Though I truly was enjoying our visit, I knew heading home would be a long drive and that I had a full school day on the other side of the sunset, so we walked toward our cars. He proudly pointed out local landmarks while we held hands like only two people who cherish each other could. A goodbye hug turned into a kiss--you know...the kind of kiss that makes your eyeballs shake...yeah, that kind--and then we parted ways.
My brain on the drive home was a tangled mess. I had only a small window in which to decide whether I was going to change my baccalaureate plans from K-State to UCM. And I had to sort out the pile of emotions that said kiss left all over the Johnson County, Missouri courthouse lawn.
I would like to say I played it cool for the next couple of days, but in reality, I was a bumbling fool, telling myself and him that starting something would be dangerous. (What on earth did I mean by that?) But I couldn't shake him from my thoughts. We managed another rendezvous and it all gelled from there. The friendship had evolved in the loveliest of ways.
Those million miles that I'd previously argued against became nothing more than a walk to a neighbor's house. In the weeks since that fateful kiss, we have shared countless hours of telephone conversation (perhaps a reason for my lack of attention to my Mountain of Laundry) and have crossed those
miles more than a few times, even recently introducing our children -- something I agreed with myself that I'd not do until I had found a relationship with true promise. This one meets that criteria.
So I introduce you to The Poet. A spirit like no other who adores me as much as I do him. Though the notion of falling so deeply and so quickly likely seems preposterous, I assure you that when you meet him, you will understand.