I can tell you, we're more than halfway to the end.
More than a little disenchanted by the
I could tell that the caliber of person on this site was different. It didn't seem like such a meat market.
I mean, don't get me wrong, it had its share of weirdos too, including one guy who learned I spoke French and, when I told him I wasn't really interested in giving him my phone number after we'd emailed back and forth a few times, wrote me a HUGE letter professing his love for me and telling me how he had envisioned us together under the Eiffel tower. There was something about roses and violins playing in the background.
Seriously. You can't make this stuff up!
But I liked knowing that at least we were coming from the same basic worldview. I had talked to one guy in particular (not Patrick) who interested me for several weeks, online and on the phone, only to have the same thing happen again once we met in person: no sparks, strained conversation and no communication afterwards.
Frustrated and seriously fed up with the entire process, I considered bringing my Internet dating era to an end, and wondered if I really was going to wind up alone.
Was that God's plan for me?
Could I accept that?
I wasn't sure that I could, but figured I'd better start working on it, since He wasn't really asking for my input.
I knew His timing was best - I'd seen it evidenced in my life over and over again - but I didn't want to keep waiting for something that wasn't ever going to happen. I remember praying in the shower every day: God, please help me to trust you!
I was homesick and sad and not sure what to do next.
Can you see where this is going?
When exactly was it that I received a "smile" from someone named Patrick? It may as well have been the very next day after I hit my emotional rock bottom.
Just a smile.
A feature that let me know that he looked at my profile and was interested.
It didn't show a ton of initiative, and by this point, I was really good at sorting the wheat from the chaff, but his profile seemed intelligent, well written. He liked some of the same movies I did.
None of the same music (does that really say Steve Winwood? What year is it?) but hey, he could change.
I sent him a short email and he replied by giving me his phone number and telling me to call him sometime.
Um...no.
That was not going to happen and I told him as much.
It was just before Thanksgiving, and I remember trading a few emails with him while I was home with my family. It was the year the power went out just about 2 hours into cooking the turkey. I told him how we had waited a half hour or so for it to come back on, then when it hadn't, we'd loaded everything up in the car to take it to my Aunt's house...only to have it come back on as soon as we'd gotten the last thing in.
Patrick was living in New Hampshire with his mom and three of his sisters. His father had passed away nine years before and he was helping his mom take care of the big farmhouse they lived in.
He worked outside of Boston, in Waltham, and suggested that perhaps we should maybe meet in person to get to know each other better.
After all of my other experiences, I thought this sounded just wonderful. We wouldn't have the time to romanticize, and I'd get to see him for who he really was, not just who he was on paper.
Er...on screen?
I agreed.
His first suggestion was go-karting, but I shot that one right down.
He came up with something much better - drinks at a little pub that had live music in the Colonial Inn in Concord.
We'd meet December 4, 2004.
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