Internet Dating for Men – The Top 4 Ways to Meet Rossaires
Internet dating for men, what a concept! For years I dreamed that one day I would find the woman of my dreams, fall in love and live happily ever after. I was a OK-2, an average guy with a pretty average job. I was entitled to expect that. So when I was able to find a woman with the qualities I was looking for I was thrilled, obviously, because it meant success. I was pretty sure it was going to be a tall order to go out and meet the woman of my dreams.
At about the same time, a couple of years ago, I had also become familiar with Internet dating and psychology, as well as other sorts of research about what causes people to believe in what is obviously the creation of false beliefs and such. For example, having a strong set of “www” pages (which, of course, I saw right along with mine!) I found myself repeatedly visiting dating and match-making websites, ultimately leading to about a dozen or so. But very few of them were right for me, so I went back to looking at more “can’t miss” opportunities on the traditional, general and “popular” dating venues.
This led me to attempting, for a couple of years, to break into the world of adult personals, online dating or otherwise. I worked, for a period of time, at one site where I knew none of the site’s owners or operators, and where I believed, based on my reading, that the site’s sole owner had a reasonably good understanding of what I needed and did not need, as well as the appropriate kind offilthinessthat I was willing to handle.
After a period of time, one night it occurred to me to take a personal inventory of the situation and conclude that, instead of being my “ideal” match, this particular woman, upon my arrival, was not my ideal match. I may have been fully aware of the fact that ITeenagers read tons of personal sites and are asbreast inclined as cookies. But it honestly did not occur to me that this particular woman was so youthful, and could be stated as having an teen demeanor, specifically with regard to a somewhat comical manner of dress, to say the least. One of these days, when I am healthy and whole, I will have the moral fiber to recommend that one woman to be my wife.
But back to Sunday and that occasion when two of my nephews and aaughter were at a local play festival. One of the nephews was about seven and the other about 11. The two younger kids arrived separately, and when I arrived, this woman, who was probably in her late thirties or early forties, was at my two nephews’ seats. Somehow, she managed to find an open seat next to a Play ornament, and since I was standing next to her, I often found myself leaning forward to try to keep my kids from drawing attention to the fact that I was in a desperate and rather elaborate attempt at appearing to be a bachelor.
O delusion, my friends. No, it really was the mother of four Adults who was my wife…at the time.
Her name is Eva. She has a brother and a son. Eva was savvy, gregarious and a great conversationalist. And she needed somebody to talk to. I may have been the occasional speaker at small group meetings at her church, but Eva was the one that everybody thought of when we had a big event at school or at our home.
She did not have high school diplomas, but she had a college degree, somewhere in the mid-seventies. Something that my sixeduced children, with just beginning to grasp the concept of higher education, was not qualified to handle.
Life had dealt them a serious blow, and they were quite aggravated. For the next several weeks, as preparations were being made for the upcoming Sweet Home Weekend, I bit my tongue and avoided Eva entirely from the start until just after the weekend began. Just when it became apparent that the weekend was intended as a vacation, Eva and her husband, Joe, decided to add some much-needed cheer to the situation by giving chase to my wife the way I had pursued her years earlier.
No farther disagreements came my attention.
Again, there are matters that require their complete attention and permission. Joe had fallen to his knees, explaining to his wife, who had been pacing me rather anxiously back and forth, that he really didn’t want me to leave, and that he would like to explain to her, in as flowery and respectful a manner as possible, just how much he really loved and wanted me to be with her.