It was Chuck’s fault. Despite my long-professed aversion to
technology, he went and bought me a smart phone for Christmas. To be honest, I think it was just another way
to keep me entertained, out of his hair.
He’s always tinkering with his old cars or watching ESPN. We barely talk anymore.
So I spent most of the next few days
figuring out how to use the damn thing and finally got to where I could make
calls and check my email. And wouldn’t
you know that one of the first emails was from Lovesick Companions, one of those online matchmaking sites,
offering two weeks of free membership.
Now, I’ve never been a fan of social media
and often warned our girls about falling for some online cruiser. I’ve seen enough bad outcomes on the crime
shows that I watch and, as far as I know, they steered clear of those
types. But now that they’re grown, off
with their own families, the idea seemed a bit more exciting. Besides, Chuck and I might as well be
cousins.
So I signed up and looked through the male
lineup, limiting myself to those over forty-five. I figured the losers would be easy to spot,
flaunting their money and looks.
Frankly, I was surprised by the large number of decent choices and,
after some hesitation, responded to a gentleman who lived in our county. His name was Frank and he described himself
as fit, lovable and adventurous. There
was no mention of his marital status but, then again, I didn’t list my own.
He responded the very next day and we developed
an online friendship over the following couple of weeks. Frank sent photos of himself, all of them
taken outdoors to, in his words, capture his adventurous spirit. He appeared to be tall, muscular and
attractive, with a closely cropped goatee and soft brown eyes. Since he was always wearing a hat, I
suspected that, like Chuck, he had lost a good deal of his hair.
I responded with photos of myself. Most were from a few years ago when I was a
bit slimmer but they were close enough.
Frank liked them anyway and commented on my warm smile and bright blue
eyes. We agreed to meet for lunch at a
café just off the main highway. He said
he would wear a Red Sox cap so I could easily spot him in the lunch crowd.
On the morning of our rendezvous I was
nervous as a cat and unusually attentive to Chuck, actually preparing a hot
breakfast before he left for work. Of
course, he didn’t make a big deal about my efforts but did ask for more
pancakes and gave me a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Once he left, I showered and tried on several
outfits, trying to capture the image in my photos. I finally settled on a long dress and light
jacket and then flipped on the television to catch The View.
I decided to leave a bit early and stake out
the café entrance. If he looked
dangerous I could bail and apologize later.
Just before noon, I saw him, limping toward the entrance. He was a tad shorter and heavier than he
looked in the photos but my fears about a dangerous hustler quickly faded. After waiting a few minutes, I walked in and
spotted him at a table near the window.
He rose from his chair, shaking my hand and commenting
that I was even more lovely in person. I
returned the compliment and we entered a light-hearted chat about the menu and
the weather. Once we had placed our
orders and were sipping our chardonnays, the conversation moved on to our
personal lives.
As it turned out, Frank had been divorced
for several months and was close to retiring from his accounting firm. He still lived on a small farm that he and
his ex had bought and their one child, a daughter, was now married and living
in New York. When I broke the news that
I was still married, though unhappily, his reaction was subdued, more
empathetic than I had expected. He went
on to express his conviction that marriage is an unnatural state, imposed by
human society for religious and cultural reasons. In his opinion, men and women are not
designed to live together for extended periods of time.
In the midst of that last comment, our food
arrived and we both had time to digest the potential ramifications of what he
had said. In a way, I actually agreed
with him but I’m sure neither of us wanted to start off with a guarantee of
failure.
Seeming to sense my thoughts, he clarified
his comment, proclaiming that long, loving relationships can work as long as
couples are willing to compromise and give each other space. His ex, he said, was incapable of doing
either. I had to admit to myself that
Chuck is usually receptive to my ideas, unless they are outrageously expensive,
and has no problem with my leaving for days or weeks at a time.
Unfortunately, Frank decided to offer an
example. When at the farm, he said, he
practices nudism, a choice not appreciated or condoned by his ex. According to Frank, it was one of the major
issues that led to their divorce. I did
my best to appear sympathetic while trying to suppress the image of us sitting
on his couch in our birthday suits. He,
of course, would be wearing a cap.
Our conversation fading, neither of us opted
for dessert and Frank offered to pick up the tab. Once outside, Frank kissed me on the cheek
and said he would email that evening. He
also expressed hope that I might visit his farm. For my part, I hurried home to
cancel my membership to Lovesick
Companions.
