"It's been over two months since she posted," they say. "Is she ever going to post again?" they wonder. "Has something HAPPENED to her?" they worry. "Something BIG? Maybe even something . . . HUGE?"
Yes, dear ones. It HAS been over two months since I last posted. And now I AM posting again, and I plan to keep on posting. And, yes, something HAS happened to me. And yes, it's BIG, and yes, it's HUGE - and here's a clue - what happened to me is a MANY-SPLENDORED THING.
I have fallen in love.
I have fallen desperately, hopelessly, till-death-do-us-part in love, with a man who, miraculously, feels exactly the same way about me.
Almost exactly two months ago, on a night when I was feeling sad and lonely, and depressed about various writing disappointments, and inspired by the recent merriment a friend was having in her foray into online dating, on a whim I signed up for Match.com.
I met him in my first hour on that dating site.
At first I just got a lame and annoying message of "Hi" from a man who lives in Phoenix (hundreds of miles away) and another of "How are you?" from a man who lives in Grand Junction (many hours' drive from here). But then I got a thoughtful, insightful message from a man who had read my (hastily assembled) profile with great care and identified points of potential commonality between us. And... this man lives right here in Boulder.
I wrote back, he wrote back, I wrote back, and then he suggested a phone call. In that first call, on Thursday, March 10, we talked for two hours. On the next day, we talked for five hours, in two chunks followed by a brief break in between. I was already smitten enough that I canceled Match.com without asking for a partial refund of the $277 I had paid for a year's membership. I had already gotten my money's worth.
The following day my little granddaughters arrived for their week-long spring break visit, so I knew I'd be fully occupied with them, but all week long he and I had stolen chats and texts during the day and a two-hour conversation each night after they went to bed.
Then came the fateful day where we would meet for the first time in person. We walked into each other's arms and have barely let go since.
His name is David. He is a fellow academic/professor (in his case, of economics), one of our first points of commonality, and a brilliant teacher (and I, too, prioritized teaching throughout my academic career). But he was a tough, demanding grader and I was a softie. I'm delighted by all the ways we are alike AND by all the ways we are different.
We share fundamental values. But in temperament, he is the calmest person I have ever met and the most patient, while neither of those are my gifts. He also does everything slowly and precisely while I do everything quickly and sometimes carelessly. He's an introvert; I'm an extrovert. He is an extremely healthy eater and was appalled by my diet of jellybeans and Cadbury eggs; he is a master spreadsheet maker and was equally appalled by the botched job I do every morning of balancing my checkbook by hand. But we both hate April Fool's Day. And we are both as in love as two people could ever be.
"What do the two of you do for fun?" a friend asked. Well, mainly we just hold each other and talk, and talk, and talk. After almost a month together, we finally went to a restaurant. After almost two months together, we finally watched a movie on TV. But nothing beats talking our hearts out and holding each other close.
At first, in the throes of this new love, I lost interest in everything else in my life. Why had I ever cared about writing anything but love poems? Why had I ever wanted to share anything I wrote with anybody but him? But it turns out that he is also a wonderful person to talk about writing with... and a wonderful person for brainstorming ideas... and a wonderful person for critiquing a draft... and a wonderful cheerleader for me as writer. So now I AM writing again - so joyously! - and will resume blogging again (promising NOT just to blog about how wonderful this new man is!). Everything is more joyous now because of him.
"I know I'm getting borderline obnoxious about how in love I am," I told another friend recently. Then I had to correct myself. "I guess... not BORDERLINE obnoxious, right?" But she didn't blame me. She knew how sad I've been for so long about so many things. She was willing to let me be obnoxiously happy now.
And I am!
