Small towns

One feature of living in the North is that chances are: you live in a very small town. That means that when you tell your friends about this guy who you are over the moon about, the chances are that at least one of them can give you all of the intel that you could ever need.

Despite that fact that I live in a small town, I regularly get lost. Much of this stems from the refusal to waste brain cells on the concept of left and right (much better to save them for destruction by alcohol). So, I often find myself on the phone while driving and being told where to turn. Last week I was doing just that when I located the guy that I had been chatting up online was standing in front of his building waving to me. What was remarkable was that there was a rainbow right over him (and his building). Better put: he was standing at the end of the rainbow.

Now, I'm much given to new-age flakiness, but certainly some of the more grounded amoung you may recognize this as a good omen. I was not surprised when I had a great conversation with this Leprachun. That night I got home giddy and filled with hope. Certainly my luck had turned. I texted him, completely comfortable to not have to play the hard to get game. "I think ur cute" to which he replied "your not hard on the eyes yourself".

I barely slept. The next day I checked my e-mail, and found a note from him. the night before I asked why his profile said that he was a civil engineer, but he told me that he was a mechanic. His e-mail said that someone had hacked into his account and changed his profile. As it turned out he had two children. I sent him a note saying that I generally don't date men who have kids. He replied that they were his world, and that he understood and respected that choice.
can't be left alone. Not only did I find him under a rainbow, but his profile has been changed to that when I ran a search he wouldn't be excluded. There are coincidences and there are Coincidences, and this had to be a Coincidence.

That evening we spoke on the phone (please note that I hate talking on the phone). He explained to me that the mom was way out of the picture. Check one. And that there were already little house trained humans and not delicate, leaky tadpoles. Check two. This show was back on track. A second night was spent restlessly contemplating first kisses, first ahem, dinners, and happily ever after.

We met for coffee the next morning and had another super-fantastic date. All lights were green: my friends were telling me that they had a "feeling" about this one. As I was giddily babbling to my room mate about his childhood adventures she froze. She asked what his last name was. I said didn't know. She said that if this was the guy that she thought it was I had better run.

She was right. Two years in the federal penitentiary for spousal assault. Do I know how to pick 'em or what?