What I Want

I had a second first date with a 55-year-old doctor last night (D.O.). The first first date was almost three years ago. I remember being unimpressed then, and last night I was unimpressed again.

He's smart, talented, successful. He's a recovering alcoholic, so he's intelligent enough to realize when he's got a problem and get help to fix it. Points are awarded for that trait. He cares about his kids and is involved in their lives. Points for that. He's successful in his work. More points. But I was bored.

As I reflected during the course of the evening following dinner, I realized I want conversation that flows easily. I don't want to have to work to figure out what topic to approach next. And I don't-don't-don't want to listen to a long philosophical discourse on any topic — politics, war, religion. Four years with Steve cured me forever on philosophy.

The relationships with all four of the men I was involved with last year began over meals where the conversation burbled and flowed like a brook over polished rocks. In fact, the one with Bob/Mr. Match began with lightning striking the table, which was magical. But he turned out to be a scoundrel, so that's not what I want.

He and I quickly turned into "old married" and that was nice. I didn't mind quickly moving to that point, and wish it had continued.

Comfort. That's the operative word. I want to sit down across from someone and be able to talk easily, feel a compatibility with the man, and intuit that my kids would like him and he would fit into my family. If I don't have those three things, we might be friends, but it's never going to go beyond that.

And we might not even work into a friendship, as I get very bored with being bored.