It Takes All Kinds

You may have guessed from the title that this is about a character, one I have called I (that is, the letter I in my alphabetical series).

First, a digression, but an important one. Last Sunday my new grandson was born, unfortunately with breathing problems, and was promptly put in the NICU (that's Newborn Intensive Care Unit, for those of you lucky enough not to know). We were told it wasn't very serious, but he had wires and beeping things coming out from various parts of him, so it was stressful and scary. It really put the love-and-dating quest into perspective, and took away my appetite for anything but news about him. Now he's doing better and is scheduled to come home tomorrow, hopefully to lead a normal newborn life of nursing, crying and staring around blankly, so back to The Dating Game.

Letter-I had one of the longest and most detailed profiles I've ever seen. He's done a good deal of traveling, and he appears to have listed every place he's visited on the globe. Plus he just came from somewhere down South and has a tremendous lust for seeing the many sights of New York, all of which were also listed, and he is a marvel of athleticism in a variety of sports, which were listed too. It was exhausting to read, but he was dashingly handsome in his picture, sporting a bicycle helmet.

Still, I wasn't sure I wanted to contact him because in the picture he has a rough-hewn, super-masculine face, and I formed an image of him from the above facts and the picture that amounted to a macho, dominating guy. I am presently allergic to the same, but I put a toe in the water nevertheless. He responded right away, ready to have fun with me in exhaustive detail. It dawned on me that what he is dying for, being alone in a new city, is a companion in his hyper-energetic travels. He also said he doesn't read newspapers. All this led me to say that we might be very different people, but how about we talk. He replied immediately, sounding upset that I thought we were different: hadn't he described himself in detail? And I liked him enough to initiate contact, why did I think we were different now?

I usually avoid phone calls like the bubonic plague, as you know if you've been reading this blog, but I wanted to reassure him that I wasn't crticizing him, since he seemed so defensive. To my surprise, the vision I'd had of him as Macho Adventure Man didn't at all match his voice, which was soft, boyish and melodic. He was sweet, but it was clear to me that I was right, he wants a woman who will accompany him in his (apparently) 24 hour a day adventures. And that ain't me, babe. I explained carefully, so as not to bruise his feelings, that I actually prefer to sit around and read than bike the length of the Hudson or climb the Shawangunk Ridge. When I could get him off the phone, I suggested we think it over. I thought that was the end of it, because that's considered a graceful exit line.

But no. The next morning there was a two-sentence follow-up email from Letter-I, solemn and earnest: how much time did I devote to my job? Was I off for the summer? I felt like I was being interviewed for a position, those niggling last questions before you're made the offer or declined. I answered, out of politeness, but Letter-I then wrote a last regretful note: "I guess I have to accept the fact that I really want someone who has the time and freedom as I have to travel and just do things together. If I were a long-time resident here with an established group of friends, that could make a difference. but that is not the case. So I think we should just wish each other good luck with the search and move on." I had already moved on, but oddly, I think Letter-I and I might very well have had a ton of fun together. If I did not have to write a book on deadline this summer, and if I were not the lazy layabout that I am, that is.

Maybe next summer I'll look for Letter-I on the dating sites again.

Next up: J, from Brooklyn, fearless film lover extraordinaire.