Recently a few of my “qualifying meetings” have asked me what it is that I am looking for. Well, I have thought long and hard about it and have come up with this answer-

Complete and total acceptance of who I am in the world.

It’s that simple. Yet, there are complications to the simplicity. Really it comes down to me loving me. I want someone just like me. It’s simpler that way. Cuts out the middleman if I’m dealing just with myself. I know what lies to tell myself, I know what shirts to wear that will attract me. And I know just what little spot to hit that will send me over the edge in bed.

But it’s more than that. I want someone who is optimistic, humorous, open-minded. My dream experimental man will have this unconditional chemistry with me.

That person has yet to drop me a line. Take for instance my last “qualifying meeting.”

It was in an Internet setup, so I had seen his photos and had a chance to speak with him on the phone a few times. I was supposed to meet him for drinks or dinner, but, the night before at another bad “qualifying meeting” I decided that these first meetings should be no longer than an hour and only for coffee. There was plenty of time to have drinks and dinners if we liked each other. I called this man and was very blunt with him about my new rule.

“We’ll know if there is a physical chemistry after a few minutes and this way we haven’t wasted too much time and money.”

He got it. At least he “understood” my thinking.

That’s another key factor in finding the right mate, to catching someone who understands what you are saying and why you are saying it.

So I thought I was on a roll. I got to the bookstore coffee shop and there he was. He looked like his photo (wonders of wonders). He was attractive, in a sweet way. He was a big guy and gave me a snuggly hug hello (snugglers make great bed fellows). He was genuinely very excited to meet me. The ability to get excited; that’s a good start. I sat down and noticed on the table there was a physics book with a notebook. Just the sight of it made me kind of queasy. I discovered he was an electrical engineer (maybe he told me; I forgot because it wasn’t interesting to me.)

I could see this heading way down hill at a brisk clip.

We talked about his work for a moment and I realized that I had no common ground with this man when it came to his livelihood. He loved sci-fi movies and I didn’t. We both loved dogs (but what’s that in the scheme of things. Nobody likes cats). That was basically the only common ground we had. There was a physical attraction of some sort, but it could hardly overcome the inevitable. Cute he may be, but perfect man material he was not. Still I tried to visualize this man in my life.

He made a comment about his mother that was very heartfelt which showed me what kind of person he was, but was that enough? He told me he loved what he did for a living, but didn’t make an enormous amount of money doing it, would that effect me at some future point? I have two kiddies to think about.

Should I be contemplating all these things on a first date? Yes and no.

Yes, because these things do come up and are real issues. No because aren’t I just supposed to be having a good time and not thinking about these things?

Life always has it compromises. It is a give and take. A big pro and con list of the have and have nots of what we are willing to accept and what we are not. If we are brought up to love ourselves unconditionally and accept all of our flaws, wouldn’t it be natural to want to be attracted to those people who are just like us? I never agreed with that cliché that opposites attract. I think that is nonsense. Like attracts like. As far as the electrical engineer goes, I can hear my mother say to me, “just go out with him one more time”. And perhaps that’s the perfect reason NOT to. I do ultimately know the outcome.

As Ralph Waldo Emerson put it:

“Trust thyself. You will soon love what is dictated by your nature as well as mine, and if we follow the truth it will bring us out safe at last.”

Will Mr. Perfect Everything ever come to be? Each time I meet a man that has a few more qualities that I am looking for and desire, I am that much closer to meeting “him”. And “He” is either out there somewhere or in a laboratory slowly being made in a test tube.

Bring on the research!

They understand me, and there is this unconditional knowing that I don’t have to explain myself. They expect the outspoken and the honesty. Out here in good ol’ LA, people are very strange and on some level completely self-absorbed. Everyone has their own brand of humor. Or they are ultra-sensitive, and I am afraid of saying something that is not politically correct for fear of offending, which is bullshit. I don’t want to watch my p’s and q’s. That’s not who I am. Can I even call myself white or is that not being politically correct about myself?

That is why, I need, want and love dating primarily east coast men. They are funny. I have a dirty sense of humor and don’t have to feel embarrassed by saying something that I think will get misconstrued. The just get it, they laugh and appreciate it. There are no misunderstandings. California men and their image of the “California” girls are not chicks with a dirty sense of humor. The Barbie doll and hot pants look goes with the wallpaper humor if you ask me.

I will admit that I have tried the California men a few times. Upon this decision, I made a disclaimer when I did it. If and when the day would come that a California man asked me out and I decided to go (for some sick reason I have…) his parents, at least one, had to be born in New York, preferably one of the boroughs. This way I know that these men were brought up with a similar mother or father (or both) that have basic upbringing, mouth and attitude that I have. After s few on these dates, which were nice but not good enough to return for a second, I was thinking that I might have had more fun with their parents. (who were from NY)

It’s not nice to judge, but California Men don’t move at the same speed or have the personality that I am accustomed to. For me it is all about the banter. I like the verbal volley back and forth. And believe me, I am definitely all about the wild sex, it’s just the pillow talk I crave now that I have been alone for a while. Late night chatting about the day is something that my NY men expect to do. Their mothers never shut up, so they’re used to it. Hopefully with all the praying I have been doing to the almighty above, an unanswered prayer will be answered.

Until then, I am getting used to my own company and to be honest, I’m a pretty good listener.

My x-husband was taking care of our kids and my best friend and I decided to do a little shopping. I looked around Shoe Pavillion, and to my dismay I found nothing until I came across a pair of cute sandals. I recognized the name on the shoes right away. I knew the shoe designer. My x-husband and I were friends with him and his wife when we lived in NY many years ago. It was a second marriage for him and her first. They were in LOVE. If you want the truth, it was a co-dependent love in a very scary way. They didn’t do anything without each other. Just fyi, there was a twenty five year age gap but that I will save for another subject, another time.

Needless to say, they were together for about six years and she was diagnosed with brain cancer. She was in and out of chemo treatments for a short time but she died within a year. It was horrific. She was only forty-one. The first couple of months he seemed very low but managed to work a little to keep his mind off of his ‘loss’. A few months later, after I had split from my husband, I was back shopping for shoes on Larchmont and walked into his son’s shoe store. I asked him how his father was doing. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “My father? He’s great.” Huh? He continued, “he moved in with Patricia something and he is madly in love.”

“Are you f****** kidding me?”

How is that possible? I walked out of the store stunned. I couldn’t believe my ears. Within a couple of months he managed to mourn the “love of his life” as well as mend it with someone new. Oh did I mention this woman was a friend of “theirs”?

That’s another lovely thought. Which made me remember when I got divorced my husband swore he would never get married again. Less than a year later, my x-husband is already remarried. This shoe trip was turning into a major affair emotionally. But it made me think-

Women mourn and men replace.

Women go through the process of the loss, the anger, the loneliness, the hurt and eventually move on. How they do that is totally different than men. Men replace, it is as simple as that. They date someone they know, get fixed up, get seduced by someone in their spinning class, or simply just find a good enough replacement. And truthfully, it’s really not fair.

Women go within, men look outward. Women get therapy, change themselves physically, spiritually, and more or less try to survive. Men, well, they date and replace.

They wine and dine women until they find someone sufficient enough and eventually move-in and/or remarry. Look everyone deserves to be happy. I just find it so interesting how different the time frame and the process between men and women is,that’s all. Look there are always exceptions to the rules. There are men who have been devastated by breakups and deaths, but they are few and far between.

Of course the double standard rule applies here like everywhere else, if a woman started dating shortly after a divorce or death she would be considered aggressive, slutty, and fast, yet we expect men to start immediately.

Is this fair?

Maybe fair isn’t the right question, but it is the truth. What’s the answer exactly? Do we make our fiancée sign an agreement that if we ever get a divorce or die that they can never replace us? Yeah, like that will happen. Or do we just chalk it up to life like everything else when God handed out his and hers, he handed out the speed to recovery to men and not women.

I don’t know the answer. I wish I did. Sometimes I do wonder what happens to these men who don’t give themselves a mourning period. What really happens when they pass by a mirror long enough to look and really say to themselves “What the f*** just happened to me?”

I bet most of them look away, if they see a reflection of themselves in the true entirety. That might be the key for their survival.

They just never look.