The Pursuit -- Chapter 3

When I got home I was still shaking!  This “finding a guy” is ridiculous!  It’s best to remain alone—v-e-r-y alone.  This pursuit is not worth it!

Later that day, I thought I’d have one last look at the website before disengaging forever.  I couldn’t believe it!!  THREE “Interests”…  Not going to touch those with a ten foot pole!  Well, OK, maybe a quick look.

But these guys sounded pretty good.  One liked to read--that’s good, my favorite hobby.  The second one was looking for someone with progressive ideas—well, that works for me!  We need more people who think critically about issues.  The last one enjoyed travel—yes, a companion on a trip to Italy could be perfect!  Quickly I clicked “Interest” on all three. 

After a few get-acquainted emails over the next few weeks, I met the traveler.  His name was Orville, and he suggested meeting at a lovely Mexican restaurant—OK, he gets the idea of ethnic foods and travel having a connection.  So far, so good…

As I sat down, he pushed in my chair.  Nice!   When our food came, I asked, “Orville, you said you enjoy travel.  So what countries have you visited?”

“O, I don’t go anywhere outside this great United States!  Why spend all that money going where they can’t speak English? For the last three years I’ve packed my tent and gone to a great wilderness area in Arizona for three months during the winter.  Next summer, I intend to explore some parts of Alaska I’ve never seen.  I hear Sarah Palin lives in a beautiful area.”

Tent camping AND Sarah Palin.  I’m going to vomit!  With great effort to hold back the internal explosion about to take place, I said, “So you really enjoy tent camping?”

“You betcha, and I’m hoping to find someone to share this fun!”

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Orville, I do not tent camp.”—no sense addressing political ideology.   I gathered my purse and handed the waitress a $20 bill as I walked to the door.

I could not believe this—dead ends TWICE!  I mean, is the universe out to get me?  This whole idea of adding a relationship to my life seemed so innocent at the onset.  What happened? AND I had two more dates planned!  Should I email and cancel them?  In the end I did not. 

On my next date I met the reader.  Surely we could find some common ground.  I mean there are so many good books—yes, yes, and so much crap!  But I’ll think positively.  This will be better.  I know this one will be better!

I met Clifford, the reader, at a small coffee shop.  He stood as I walked in—the Yankees baseball cap on the table, the identifier.  His white socks showed about two inches below his trousers.  The original color of his jacket couldn’t be seen for the brown stains that smelled of barnyard.  His very thin hair was pulled back into a rubber banded dirty, greasy ponytail.  OK, chill—maybe he just returned from milking cows—except it was 2 p.m…

This was definitely NOT the man in the picture.  “Are you sure there hasn’t been some mistake?  You don’t look like the man in the website photo.” 

“O that, I forgot.  Actually he’s my identical twin—I saw absolutely no resemblance.  I don’t have a current picture of myself.  But I can assure you that I am the man you met on the internet.”  This was said MUCH too loudly in this small enclosure. He’d already ordered coffee so I sat down—though I’d planned to have tea.

I thought I’d begin.  “You said you like to read, so who is your favorite author?”

He smiled and put out his chest in pride.  “Zane Grey.  Yep, I love that man.  I’ve read his books about six times!  He has a way with all those stories about the West!  Those were real men!  Just can’t get enough of them so I read ‘em over and over.”

“So you enjoy the classics.” I responded without enthusiasm though I was really trying my best.  “What about any more modern day authors?”

“No, I pretty much stay with my old friend Zane.”

“What about you?  Who is your favorite author?”

I felt like a snob knowing he’d probably never heard of Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Christopher Bohjalian, Dan Brown, or Bill Bryson.  I slowly named them off hoping that since they were men there might be some recognition.

“Nope, never heard of them,” he said with puzzlement written all over his face. 

We sat for another few minutes.  This just wasn’t going to work.  Finally I looked at him, put my coffee cup down, and my hand on his.  “Clifford, it would be great for you to find someone to talk with about all those exciting Zane Grey stories.”

“Yes,” he said—his face lit up in anticipation--he obviously didn't read body language either.

“I’m afraid it’s not going to be me.  However I wish you all the happiness and good fortune in finding that person.”   I got up and slowly walked out.  

To be continued...