People meet online now; almost no one drops a hankie and finds their soul mate kneeling to retrieve it as was common just a generation ago. Online dating is so much easier than the face to face kind I have done in the past, because I am both shy and flirtatious. The format makes it easy flirt and then run away without being seen running into a light post on the retreat, which has happened to me more than once.
I joined match.com at the suggestion of my sister when I realized, a little too slowly, that the man I was dating was not actually dating me back. Naturally I was a bit emotionally unpredictable, but overall hopeful and excited about the rebound parade of nakedness I could now orchestrate.
True to my nature, I spent a few weeks considering the profiles of women all over Atlanta and not engaging in any way. I would read a few, giggle flirtatiously and log off. When I saw Satu's picture, I blushed from head to toe and averted my eyes so I wouldn't appear to be staring at her, then I shut off the computer. I repeated this pattern for a few days, looking at her beautiful smile and reading her quirky, smart, perfectly punctuated profile...and logging off in a fluster. She was the reason I decided to join the site. Even though I was clearly never going to talk to her, I figured that if someone as awesome as Satu was posting there, maybe there would be someone on there for me.
I took a little personality test to join the site. I don't know if I passed, but I had enjoyed a few beers by the time I got to the essay part, so I may have rambled and been overly truthful. The site sent me a list of women that I may be interested in meeting. When a few of them messaged me, I enjoyed talking to them, but mostly didn't feel any kind of connection. I continued to visit Satu's profile and not talk to her.
Eventually, I got the golden email inviting me to talk about joining Satu's dinner group, I swear there was a chorus singing faintly in the background when I opened it. We agreed on little restaraunt in Roswell called Spice andI arrived early so I could flirt with the bartender to raise my confidence. When Satu walked through the door, she put me instantly at ease. She was warm and honest and funny and smart. We stayed long enough to annoy the waiter having an easy conversation that could have lasted hours more. Satu had a trip to Kansas coming up and invited me to share a growler she would bring home from the Freestate Brewery. It sounded like the perfect date, she would bring the beer, I would bring the food and we would continue our conversation without an anxious waiter mopping up splashes of wine and pacing about.
The next two weeks creaked by until she called. I bought everything in the store that I thought would be grillable and drove out to Roswell for the date (was it a date? no, probably not a date, hope it was a date, how do people do this?). I met her very handsome dog Maki and nervously tried to help with the meal as much as I could. Satu cooked with vision and confidence. It was one of the best meals I have ever eaten to this day and the best date/not date of my life. After dinner we sat on her floor and talked like old friends. I made sure to keep the dog between us to ease my nerves which he seemed to like because it meant constant pats for him.
We had a few more dates that I convinced myself couldn't really be dates. It was a little like a staring contest, neither of us would make the first move that so obviously needed to be made. One night when we were talking on the phone, she told me Maki was not doing well and she had been sleeping on the couch because he couldn't make it up the stairs any more. She had lent me a kind of sad, but sweet little book about a dog on our last date (not date?), so after we talked, I decided that to print out a poem called "Her Grave" by Mary Oliver. It just seemed like the perfect words at the time. Since I didn't want to tear the page out of my book, I went online and googled the poem. I found it on a quirky little blog, printed it and tucked it in the little book Satu had lent me. I read a couple of the other posts on that blog happy that I had stumbled on such a funny little place, then I saw a familiar face in the margin. I'll be damned if it didn't look just like Maki on one of the thumbnails. I opened the album and thought how funny that there could be more than one rhodesian ridgeback named Maki...in Georgia... leaning on a cute girl that looks just like Satu...living with a cat that looks like noodle...hmmm, in front of a house that looks familiar. Oh. I had just copied a poem for Satu off of her own blog.
It took a few more weeks and a handful of quarters to finally bring us together. By that time I had bored all of my friends about how awesome she is and pretty much talked my poor sister into a coma. Thankfully, Satu had the idea to show me a selection of her state quarters, like a magpie, she is drawn to shiny things. As she layed the quarters out on her palm and expalined the features of each one, I studied them with great intensity. "I like this one," she said "because it has a cow and cheese." I couldn't stand the excitement of her warm knee against my leg and the touch of her fingertips as she layed quarters one at a time into my hand. I had to kiss her, I was dizzy from the effort it was taking to sit still, and the desire was overwhelming. Now that I have felt the touch of her lips, I can't imagine kissing any others.
