The things one sees on the way to a lasting relationship

Probably part one of many

The inspiration for this tale was Mr. Match's reaction when I was astonished to see how neat and tidy and civilized he keeps his apartment. I told him he was unusual and he didn't believe me.

Okay, kiddies, gather up your blankies and let's cuddle up on the couch. I'm gonna tell you a story. Some of you might think it's a horror story, so beware.

There was the guy in D.C. who lived with his aging mother, caring for her in exchange for room and board. There was dust and clutter everywhere, and multiple litter boxes for the multiple cats. The living room held probably ten stacks, each around four feet high, of old magazines — some ten or more years old. His bedroom contained boxes of his possessions that he had moved there ten years earlier when he divorced and moved out of the home he and his wife shared. I presumed the clutter was his mother's and predated him in the house. We dated for about six months, and then for the following five years he still e-mailed and IM'd me, declaring his love for me. So when I was back to the East Coast, I stopped by to visit him in the home he bought near the Potomac following his mother's death. Guess what? Clutter and dust, dust and clutter. Everywhere. Some things never change.

And the retired lawyer who stated in his Match.com profile that he earned $75,000-$100,000 per year. He had moved to Tucson following his separation to buy old homes, renovate and flip them. He knew construction. He could walk into a fixer-upper and see very quickly what it would take to flip the house. His bedroom contained a box spring and mattress lying on the floor; his furniture was from the various second-hand furniture stores along Grant Road; his bathroom faucet didn't work—after using the toilet, he would walk to the kitchen to wash his hands. (I guess I should have been grateful that at least he washed his hands!)

Then there was the guy in El Paso who still had the litter box behind the kitchen table, even though the cat had died a year earlier. And paint peeling from the bathroom walls. And the toilet paper holder with only one side in place. And cobwebs hanging from the cathedral ceiling. And dust and clutter everywhere.

Oh, and let's not forget Evil-Ex-Fiancé-From-Hell. When I moved out, there were five boxes of belongings he had brought from Sweden with him and couldn't be bothered to unpack. The house stayed clean because we had a cleaning woman two days a week and me seven days a week to pick up after him. He was an amateur radio operator who had every issue of CQ ever published, a Internet guru who had every issue of Journal of the ACM and SigComm Proceedings and IEEE Spectrum. He never met a piece of paper he didn't need to keep. Oh, remember my statement above about the guy washing his hands. Well, EEFFH didn't visit a dentist once during the four years we were together. Yuck! Double Yuck!

What's my point, exactly? The male animal, left to his own devices, will adjust his lifestyle such that he can expend the minimum amount of energy necessary to stay fed and clothed. There are exceptions to that maxim. And there are women who live that way also. But I would suggest that maybe 70-80% of males live this way, compared to maybe 20-30% of females. It's not normal, people. We're not meant to live with that amount of dust and clutter.

Mr. Match, rest assured, you are truly unique.

And to my e-mail buddy who plays with telescopes, cameras, kayaks and a new electric bass (you know who you are): kudos to you for being outstanding in your gender. My one inspection revealed your house to be lovely, beautifully decorated, and clutter-free.

So the moral of the story, kiddies, is this: if you find a man who knows how to pick up after himself, you'd better hang onto him. They are few and far between.