I’m happy. I’m single. I’m happy I’m single. (Get ready, the “but” isn’t far behind—or instead, let’s make that an “and.”) AND after an adult lifetime of long-term partnerships, there’s a part of me that asks, “Is there someone else out there?” Or, more importantly, “Is there someone in there—someone inside me who is willing to enrich and complicate my current level of contentment?”  I have to admit that despite that satisfaction, I’ve been attracted to the course, “Calling In The One,” a program that works from the inside out to draw ideal partners together. Yet most days, I entertain this possibility like a guest who dropped in for tea and “just can’t stay.”

So what happened last night? Why, recovering from a virus and tired from the late hour, did I go on an online dating site for the first time in my life? And sit up way past my prime filling out a profile? Truth is, I was enjoying the edgy experience of straddling honesty while keeping a grip on giving myself the benefit of the doubt. On a scale of one to ten how controlling, sexy, helpful am I really? How much does height, hygiene or humor matter? How far am I willing to go? (in miles). Neophyte that I am, I wasn’t expecting my answers to spawn such immediate results! I had only filled out 43% of my profile when the polls started showing early returns! I had seven matches! Seven men were quasi-close enough to my values, virtues and “must-haves” that their profiles lined up like suitors standing at the door.

I eliminated one instantly on age – weren't men of my Dad's generation outside my elected parameters? But as any half-awake woman would do, I read the other six. Amusing, entertaining, enjoyable—except for one. One, and only one, was not just a match on cyber-paper, but in my heart. He sounded like the kind of single man I might meet at a workshop and instantly wonder if he was the workshop—my reason for being there. Now as much as you and I would both enjoy it, I’m not going to divulge the content of his sharing or the nature of our match for even in the odd otherworld of online dating, privacy is private. Suffice it to say, however, that unless he ultimately proved to one big wad of false advertising, this man and I appeared to be spiritually, psychologically, professionally and hormonally matched…with particulars that rose way above the water line of co-incidence.

I sent him a note. It was short, genuine and honest. It smacked neither of stalking, fawning or desperation. I was amazed I could do all this without signing up for membership. And then alternately confused when my note didn’t appear to have been sent—perhaps because I hadn’t signed up? This morning, I saw that someone had reviewed my profile. It appeared to be him, but I couldn’t be sure as the invitation TO JOIN kept popping up like a two-year old pup in heat, disrupting my view—and then “someone has reviewed your profile” was gone. As near as I can tell, he looked, but didn’t respond. This sent the gossip girls in my head into frenetic conjecture:

“Maybe it’s because she’s a year older and only one inch shorter.”
“Or because she used the word ‘consciousness’ one too many times.
“Or ‘astrology.’
“Or maybe he didn’t take her seriously because she hadn’t joined yet.”
“Or thought her message was too much too soon.”

This brooding rumination went on half the morning before, right in the middle of their java-riddled rant, I laughed.
“Girls,” I said, nuzzling my way in-between them, “Twelve hours ago I didn’t know this man existed. I was happy. I was single – and happy to be single, remember?”
They stared at me like children appalled that you just turned off their cartoons.
The quiet was heavenly.


The next day, I discovered, that no, you can’t send a message before joining, which meant The Man hadn't received my communique and very likely hadn't even seen my profile. Once again I stood in amazement at the presumptousness of my mind to seize a possibility and then feed it the empty carbs of its own little stories--tales that neither nourish nor satisfy. How easy to let the mind take over an idea and hold it hostage in its own limited world as if it were an urgent problem to be fixed or a vexing puzzle to be solved.

Do you recognize this phenomenon of seizing a possibility and then spinning useless stories about it? Is it happening right now? How do you catch yourself and come back to the moment?

Together on the Evolving Journey,
Maridel