Yesterday I explained how turning thirty brought a shifting in my goals. I had a successful career but I wanted a family. I decided to go about acquiring one in a similar fashion to how I approached business, starting with finding a husband. Step one was advertising.
Continuing with part two of…
The Executive’s Guide to Husband-Hunting (part 2)
One fellow’s typed letter caught my eye, however, for its unique blend of humble honesty and personal rhetoric. In it he wrote (excerpted with spelling, punctuation, and grammar errors intact and author’s name changed):
I am sure that people who type an answer to your add seems a little bit impersonal, however I have a good reason my hand writing and spelling really SUCKS and I want you to be able to read my reply… JOHN
Phone number after 5:00 PM sorry I have no resent photo of my self However, my drawing is worse than my hand writing.”
In the lower margin he drew a stick figure labeled “me.”
I put him on the list, near the bottom, but an honorable mention at least.
Eventually, I waded through the sea of Yes’ that were really Nos and reached John. I called him, after five o’clock, as he’d instructed. We chatted for an hour because he was easy to talk with and had a good sense of humor. We arranged the “safe date”—meet for drinks in a public place, early start, early end, no strings.
In the meantime, I reread some of my rejections and found two more from John in response to earlier ads I’d placed, handwritten notes I’d rejected because his handwriting really did suck. In one he’d included a picture of himself. I remembered it and thought he had nice forearms, but that hadn’t been enough to earn him a Yes. While “nice forearms” might sound like something you say about a person when there is nothing else of merit, I really do notice that part of man’s body. He’d been photographed in Australia, sweater sleeves pushed up, a traveler, as he’d written. He really did have brown hair and really did look like he weighed 175 pounds. In his letter, he’d requested that I return his photo. At the time, I’d laughed and muttered, “As if,” then stuffed it back in the envelope with the letter, and bundled it with the other Nos.
Our date went well. Three hours later, we said our goodbyes with no future plans to meet or call. We hung in limbo, both digesting a massive meal of the other that tasted delicious but neither of us sure yet whether it was enough nutrition to survive on for any length of time, much less a lifetime.
Over the next three days, I thought about John a lot. Our values and senses of humor tracked in cozy, parallel lines. But he never called. In another bold move, I called him . . . maybe not that bold, considering it was midday and I assumed he’d be at work. My plan was to leave a brief message on his answering machine to remind him of my existence and indirectly let him know that if he called I’d be receptive to seeing him again.
His phone rang once, twice, and I cleared my throat, prepared to leave my rehearsed message on his machine.
…to be continued tomorrow!
Thank you to all who’ve visited me so far! I’m falling way behind visiting YOUR blogs, being on vacation, but I promise to do some major catching up when I return Easter weekend.
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