Follow one woman's quest to find her ideal mate.
Day 28. How very thoughtful. Jennifer at The Allied Network calls to say that a "friend" gave her my name and she has "quality single people" for me to meet. Why, thanks, that sounds just -- oops! Message erased.
Day 35. Finally, a date! A friend of a friend sets me up with Tom from L.A., but we don't click. A worrisome thought crosses my mind: my friends may think there's no one left for me in Canada.
Day 40. Do potential husbands congregate in one spot -- other than Italian dance clubs (average age: 65)? Can I meet someone in a bookstore or video store, or is that only in romantic comedies with Meg Ryan when she had thin lips?
Day 52. I smile at every man I see -- even the ones in tank tops at the gym. I start conversations with strangers at ATMs and grocery stores. No, I haven't joined a group or club -- are there shopping clubs and, if so, would straight men go to them? What more can I do?
Day 53. Click. I am "female." Click. I am seeking a "male." Click, click. "French guy" is still available. No. Non.
Day 58. "What are you looking for?" asks my friend Robin. Just a nice, kind, decent guy who won't bring an ugly sofa into our living room -- but we can talk about that. "Did you try the Internet?" asks Robin.
Day 65. A week of holiday parties and hot prospects. Tony thinks I should try a singles cruise. Santa Claus asks me to be Mrs. Claus. Juan, a filmmaker whom I quite like, suggests grabbing a coffee sometime. Will I soon hear the pitter-patter of big feet around the house?
Day 82. Juan has not called.
Day 86. No word from Juan.
Day 89. I'm trying to cut down on coffee anyway.
Day 90. My friend Trish says I've sent a message to the universe that has started tilting things for me and, eventually, my husband will appear. "Tilting?" I say, alarmed. I don't need more of that. Still, I wonder if she's right. I have felt a little off balance lately and I'm not sure why.
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