First Contact

Dearest Rachel –

After discovering last night (or rather, this morning, I suppose) at 3:30 that I had fallen asleep in the bedroom rocking chair five hours earlier, I made to brush my teeth, get myself undressed, and drop myself into bed where I belonged. It was easier than it had been for some time, as I had no recollections of dreams that were pressing me to relate to you. And this dreamless state continued, until I woke up to a surprisingly well lit bedroom, and the alarm clock on my nightstand just about ready to read eight. I think I may well have finally brought myself into alignment with the time zone around me. Which is more than I can say for Daniel; as I padded off to the shower, I was fairly sure I could hear the drone of some YouTube commentary that he had going already. Then again, come eight o’clock, most people are expected to be awake to deal with the day. Let’s hope this situation holds for him.

To be sure, the downside of all this is that I didn’t (and still don’t) have any weird dreams that I need to tell you about first thing in the morning, like you used to do, and I assume you’d want to hear from me if I had any. As it is, however, that’s fine, as I have a little bit of real life from the past weekend (even through last night) that I can tell you about.

Now, I already told you about having signed up for a new online dating service, and my trepidations about that, especially given my experiences the first time around. I will say that the experience has been somewhat different than the last; I don’t get the same kind of traffic that I did, but seeing as most of that ‘traffic’ was either bots or gold-diggers (or gold-digging bots? I don’t know how any of this works, and I’m not venial enough to try to work this kind of con on someone else myself), I should probably be grateful for that fact. Sure, the bots made for some interesting drama, which meant I had some real stories to tell you about, but that’s not really how I wanna live the rest of my life post-you.

By contrast, this particular app seems to be well on top of that sort of activity. Sure, they let me know anytime someone’s looking at my profile, and send me an email whenever I receive a message, but they will catch themselves quickly. In fact, they sent me an email shortly before Thanksgiving, for example, but by the time I went over to the chat session only moments later, the other person had already been ‘blocked,’ and obviously, not by me. Apparently, ‘Ana’ had violated their terms of service with a single wall of text. I’m guessing by telling me her email address, and inviting me to contact her that way, but I’m not entirely sure. In any event, I received another email almost immediately thereafter from the service, informing me of the situation, and reminding me to familiarize myself with the safety protocols. Dad and I, in particular, had a bit of a chuckle – and a nod or two of approval – over the situation, and their quick response to it.

But that was all that had happened this month since signing up… until just after the holiday. Just as Kevin and I were wrapping up our weekly gaming session (Ellen was down in Macomb with her mom, and Erin… well, I’m not sure where she was, but this is the beginning of the busiest time of the year for her, what with UPS and the holiday gift-giving season), my phone started to ping from the app.

I was being contacted.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t from anybody I’d tried to contact on the site myself. This was completely unsolicited, and despite the fact that I wouldn’t have expected the two of us to be at all compatible. still, who am I to argue if someone wants to speak to me? I responded in turn (as I nearly always do when addressed online), and for the last couple of evenings, we’ve been chatting back and forth over the app.

I don’t know whether to use her name in describing her; after using so many pseudonyms throughout my time on the previous app, I kind of lost track of who was who (not that it mattered much, in the final analysis). For now, I think I’ll stick with referring to her by ‘she’ and ‘her,’ not that she was necessarily the type to give out pronouns (although there’s a hint of that in her profile, which may have been another reason for me not to reach out to her myself). Unlike either of us, she’s very much a city girl, appearing to live in the South Loop area, based on her current church and the high school her daughter goes to. While I may have expressed dreams of living downtown to you at various times, the idea of dating someone who does is slightly intimidating.

And yes, she does have a daughter, although through a donor, rather than a relationship. So she’s apparently never been married; why she would want to change that situation now has me wondering, but it’s not a thing I’d feel comfortable questioning to her face, at least, not at this point. She’s also got a soft spot for cats, which concerns me (and my allergies) a little bit. But the way I see it, worrying about our differences is putting the cart before the horse. For now, we’re sounding out each other, getting to know our separate backgrounds, to see if it would even be worth our while to meet. At least it seems as if that much might be a real possibility, rather than someone who’s going to ask for money sight unseen; indeed, as an attorney, she’s doubtless more ‘successful’ than I could ever hope to be, at least in terms of accomplishments. She hardly needs someone like myself to be ‘complete.’

And the more I say stuff like this, the more curious I am about her, what she’s looking for, and why she would reach out to someone like me. I may overstep my bounds, but I might have to ask about that. It’s only fair; she’s the one that broached the third-rail topic of politics, which had me treading carefully. Despite her describing herself as “more conservative than [her] friends,” she’s in a profession and living environment where the concept is only truly applicable by comparison. I’m a far cry from her, philosophically, but as long as I’m not a “mean, grumpy, judgmental conservative,” apparently I’m okay in her book. We’ll see how long that lasts.

Until next time, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.