In Search Of Mr Perfect

I've joined an internet dating service. I actually paid money to do this. But, knowing me I'll get bored with the whole process and then decide I'm quite happy being single after all. However, should it happen, Mr. Perfect will have to be met within the one month time frame of my membership.

I signed up and answered all the pop psychology questions and was promptly "matched". I had 12 men right off the top. I was quite impressed until I realized that there are millions on this site. So, you see, everything is relative.

Now the only problem is that my age category goes from 55 to 80. Would I date an 80 year old? Nope. I guess whoever configured this "matching" business figured that once you were older, it didn't matter how much older you were.

Anyway, I "winked" to one fellow (this is a non threatening way of letting someone know you might want to 'start a conversation' with them). He responded by saying that we lived too far apart. He lived in 500 miles from me. My friend said it may have been too much of a stretch for him; the distance that is.

But then again, do I really want to complicate my life? Do I want to have to think about someone else? Isn't training the dog enough to think about?

See, sometimes I have cereal for supper (with gobs of yogurt and great big chunks of banana) and sometimes I have sensible things like fish, veggies 'n rice with an apple for dessert. Sometimes I hang out in my pj's all day long flumped on the couch reading and nibbling chocolate or licorice. I can revel in the decadence of it, just because.

When you live alone it is easy to forget about the niceties of life. You talk out loud to nobody. You can carry on whole conversations with your pet fish (if you wish) saying the most ridiculous things. I love to flounce around speaking with different accents and nobody is there to look at me as though I've lost my mind. Poor Finnigan (the dog) never knows who will be talking to him.

You can say as many "expletives deleted" as you want. You can laugh at the imagined cleverness of your own 'out loud' self talk. You can pick your nose or allow your body to release air in a whole variety of ways. (I'm not saying I actually do any of this, 'cause I'm a polite sort - but I could if I wanted to 'cause only the dog would know, but he's taken a vow of silence)

Yep, living alone is great - mostly. There are times when it would be nice to come home from a long day at work and have someone to talk to. Someone to hold your hand and tell you that of course you were right and of course everyone else was a moronic idiot. You'd have a built-in person to go to a movie with, or out to supper, or for a walk.

You'd have someone who could open mouthwash jars. (I used a hammer once and it worked nicely, then I made an easy-to-remove tinfoil lid) Someone who would tell you that they still loved you with zits, with puffy eyes, with bad breath, however you are at any time. They'd love you, the real you, the inner you, they'd always see the best you.

Who am I kidding? This may apply when love first blossoms in youth. But as you get older and body bits change, personalities have to become larger and brains have to engage in different ways. Actually, everything has to engage in different ways and preferably with the lights out.

Anyway, I'll keep you posted should Mr. Perfect show up. Meanwhile, I'll continue to enjoy the company of friends (both two legged and four legged) and flump on the couch eating chocolate when I want to. Maybe I'll even grow a zit.