First of all, if you haven’t, be sure to read The Fart that (Almost) Altered My Destiny, from which I parodied this title. It’s the hilarious story about how one woman’s silent but deadly gasser almost ruined things with the man she is now married to.
But not all love/fart stories end in marriage, let alone love. And today I have a tale to tell with no happy ending. In fact, it was such a disastrous ending that I don’t even feel comfortable starting this story out with “once upon a time.” That’s too fairytale-esque, and this is no fairytale. So instead…
Once upon a stomach gurgle…
No, let’s rewind.
Once upon a computer keyboard… Yeah. That works.
Once upon a computer keyboard, I was sifting through my emails. I was only about five weeks behind (a seriously good record for me), when I saw that someone had sent me a message through Match.com a few weeks before.
I was seriously bummed in that moment. The reality of my digital life is that so often I get so far behind that I miss out on good opportunities.
I read the email and clicked through to her profile. This woman was gorgeous. She had long flowing lowlighted brown hair that wisped and curled in that oh-so-sexy “I spent two hours making it look this way” way. Her little button nose was scrunched above a genuine enough look of happiness.
And now the more important requirements, I thought, as I went to actually read her profile. Yes, she makes money. Yes, she makes good money. I knew then that she was datable.
Geez, I kid. Her income wasn’t listed (bummer for those of us looking for sugar-mommas). She did, however, have similar beliefs to mine. She was into skiing. That was a huge plus. She liked to dance. That could be good or bad. She liked Thai food. Big strike. She had a sweetheart of a little girl about Noah’s age. Big plus. Her entire profile wasn’t some giant list of demands or the “I won’t haves.” She lived nearby. She drank socially. Her profile was full of all sorts of wit and intelligence. There was no doubt about it. This girl was more special than most.
And she emailed me. As soon as I thought about that, my B.S. detector started humming. Beautiful, down to earth, funny, awesome girls don’t tend to go searching for guys on Match. At least not in my experience. They don’t have to. I’ve seen their phones when I’ve been on dates with them. No fewer than twelve times per minute their screens light up with notifications that they’ve received another email from yet another suitor.
I sniffed around her page even further. I couldn’t see any red flags (aside from the Thai food). I perused all of her photos. She actually was more beautiful in some of them than she was in her main one. No red flags there. I guess I should email her back, I thought.
Then I remembered. It was more than three weeks ago that she emailed me to begin with. There was a good chance she was gone or no longer interested.
I opened up her email anyway and reread what I had read before.
“Hi, I just wanted to tell you your son is adorable and you had me laughing like crazy with your profile! I would love to get to know you!”
Dang it. She complimented my kid and she thought I was funny. It’s like she knew exactly which two things would immediately score huge points for her.
I wrote back, “You are hot. I want to be your husband.”
Oh, come on. Give me some credit. Of course I didn’t say that. I did, however, write back something equally as brief and substantially humorous.
Long story short, we started emailing, and then texting, and the next week we had an official date lined up.
Fast forward to date night.
No, let’s rewind to date morning and the worst three decisions of my entire life.
CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE