Maybe the sun is shining, birds are winging, no rain is falling from a heavy sky

As I've stated before, I've entered the world of online dating via the Tinder app on my phone. I wasn't under the assumption I'd find an abundance of women I found appealing, but I also didn't figure there would be a scarcity. I was hoping to find at least some women who seemed artistic, unconventional, weird, spiritual,  peaceful. Not many to be found, as it turns out.

I matched with a woman named Rachel fairly early on. Judging by her photos, she was not cut from the same generic cloth as so many of the other profiles I was checking out were. In a couple of the pics she had short hair and dressed like someone more likely to be found at a Pixies show than a Red Sox game.  No mention of running the Warrior Dash, no tall guy requirements (an good portion of the profiles I've been checking out state explicitly that short men, basically anyone under 5' 11", will be passed over without a thought), no pictures of her at a sporting event (just about every profile includes beer toasting pics at a Red Sox or Patriots game).

A good start.

We began communicating through text and continued to do so for about a week and a half. We had a good rapport and, at least on paper (or screen), we seemed to be a good match. We hatched a plan to meet this past Friday night at The Burren in Davis Sq.

As Friday approached, it began to seem like the Universe was throwing tiny wrenches in the works. I woke up Wednesday with a scratchy throat that continued all day and developed into a pretty rad head cold (that has subsequently moseyed on down to my chest). I NEVER get sick this time of year. Not like this. And I don't believe I brought on the illness through stress or lack of sleep; I've been taking very good care of myself and wasn't stressed in the least about the date; I was looking forward to it. I didn't get too discouraged but had to wonder at the timing.

On Friday, just as I was about ready to walk over to Davis, the toilet backed up and flooded the bathroom. Another event that has NEVER happened to me, not while living in this house. I managed to fix things with the plunger and hurriedly mopped up, but now I was running late. I wasn't really bothered by what happened - it was actually kind of funny - but again, I had to wonder at the timing.

When I got to The Burren, Rachel was waiting for me; she had just arrived. I barely recognized her. Right away it was clear that the pics she posted were from a while ago; she looked older and was about twenty pounds heavier. I wasn't totally unprepared for something like this - I'm aware that people don't always represent themselves as they currently appear - but it took my brain, which had taken the images I'd had available and created an approximation of what she might look like, a few moments to process.

We found a table outside and ordered drinks. The conversation didn't really flow at first, mostly because my brain was still trying to adjust to this person who looked radically different from her photos (I even begun to wonder if she had posted pictures of her sister or cousin - it's possible). I wasn't angry, didn't feel betrayed, but I wasn't attracted to her at all and felt bad that she felt the need to misrepresent herself. I imagine it might take her a while to meet a guy when she's deceptive right out of the gate.

I don't put a huge emphasis on looks, but  they matter to me. Whether it's based on conditioning, I'm attracted to the women I'm attracted to but it's a wide array: short, tall, slim, chunky, young, old, etc. But I wasn't attracted to Rachel, so that was that. We had a pleasant dinner and got to know each other a bit. At 9:30 we parted ways. I walked home feeling the pangs of another disappointment. I honored the feeling by not attemting to stifle it.

I came home, smoked a little, and listened to American Beauty. I think it will happen, I think I'll pair with someone special and it will feel like coming home for both of us. Could happen anytime.

Goodnight