I have a profile on Plenty of Fish.com, which is a free internet dating site. I refuse to pay to meet someone online (I think it’s a lame way to meet people, but since I’m not meeting them any other way…) so there it is.

Just so you marrieds have an idea of what it’s like on the other side of the fence, I thought I would share a day in my life.

I get an email. An email that notifies me of mail at POF. I get home and check my POF inbox. There’s mail from some guy I haven’t corresponded with previously.

Step One: read his profile. Even before I read the email he sent, I want an idea of who sent this. His profile mentions things like, “in search of a family oriented, well educated, fun loving woman…” “I enjoy spending time on Sundays watching football or playing with my kids”, blah, blah blah. But what really catches my eye is this line, “if we do not mack good chat and feel it gooding good on the date than it will not work”” or if we see it all hot,chat is good. than we will go there.” Um, what?!?!

Yeah, so being that well-educated woman, I’m a little concerned. I decide that it doesn’t matter what his email says, he’ll get a polite, “I don’t think we’re a good match” line.

His email reads, “come to your area on the 15th for my football game. look at my profile and my wecan meet that sat night or not the wab page in in my profile.. hopw you been?”

Yeah, so about that…I send my polite but firm rejection, wondering what on earth I do to deserve this. I get a reply that’s more entertaining than the rest of this… “i see that is ok i am dateing 2 woman now full time. got to love a good 3way gf bf gf there moveing in this week. andi have been friend for 10 yr with both of the woman move in work good .. thank you for your time and bye”

Well, now that we got that cleared up…

Hug your spouse. Appreciate the things s/he does even if they drive you nuts sometimes. When you say your prayers tonight be grateful you’re not out here in the dating world.

Sigh.

I was talking to a boy last night, one I’ve talked to a couple of times and plan to meet for coffee later on today (Coffee= The New First Date). He was talking about Ephesians 5, and the desire he has to replicate his parent’s marriage with the sort described in those verses.

Potatoes!

We have a new literacy curriculum this year that is teaching reading from a refreshingly new perspective. It gives the students the knowledge (and therefore the power) to figure out words for themselves (imagine being a first grader stuck on the word “bicycle” and having a teacher say, “sound it out!”) I work with small groups of at-risk students as well as filling in for a couple of teachers while they are out on maternity leave (since their subs aren’t trained in the new curriculum, I get to fill in – which I love!)

It was during my half hour with the first grade class that it happened. I had given them ten spelling words so I could see just how much they have absorbed and what aspects we still need to review and practice. A particularly challenging task for this age is to understand why some words have double letters in them, something this class is getting very good at explaning (which I could not have done well six months ago!)

I had collected their papers and we were going through the words on the board one by one when I reached such a word. “Alex? Do you want to try to spell ‘tennis’?” Alex was eager to give it a try and I was so delighted when he told me “t-e-n-n-i-s”. I followed-up by asking Alex how he knew that “tennis” needed to have two n’s in the middle.

(I have to interject here for those of you who, like me earlier this year, don’t know why tennis has two n’s. Doubling letters is how the designers of our language (and other languages) created a way for us to ensure that a reader of a word would know we meant the ‘e’ to be a short ‘e’ and not a long ‘e’. Think of the difference between something like ‘tigger’ and ‘tiger’ for example. )

Alex, confident of his perfect answer replies, “Because if it didn’t have two n’s, it would say, ‘tenis’!”

Which of course, created an eruption of giggles in the classroom – a word far too similar to ‘penis’.

We all recovered nicely and moved right along to “simple” without much of a glitch. Maybe the little giggle over ‘tenis’ will help them all to remember the rule for double letters!

Flash is gone for the week. Which means:

a) I was able to grocery shop with a basket instead of a cart, check out in the 12 items or less aisle and get out of the market for $22.

b) The food I bought at the market will actually stay in the house until I get around to eating it.

c) The house is far too quiet.

In regards to c), I was on hulu.com looking for something to entertain me this evening and found some silly show I’d never heard of. I start the pilot episode (thinking 24 episodes should keep me busy for a few days, right?) and I realize IT’S THAT GUY!! You know the one, the guy with the absolutely amazing smile from Catch and Release?! The amazing rebel boy that she falls in love with?! Oh, I love that man’s smile!!

Okay, so…

d) I’ve got to go. I’ve got a boy to drool over. And no one here to tell me that I cannot use the word “yummy” to describe a man.

“Time to work in the garden?”

“Yep.”

“All right. What’s our goal going to be for tonight? I say, let’s make it all the way to the corner.”

“All the way to the corner? That’s more than just optimistic, that’s crazy!”

“I know, but we can do it!”

“Okay, if you say so!”

…

“My arms are going to fall off.”

“You can do it! Keep going!”

…

“Seriously? The corner?”

“Come on, it’s not that far!”

“Not that far? You’re not the one digging up each and very square inch of sod out here!”

“No, but I’m the one hauling every single square inch of sod off to the pile!”

“True.”

…

“I don’t think I am going to make it. It’s getting really cold out here and I’m exhausted!”

“We don’t have that much further to go! Come on! Don’t make me go all ‘bootcamp’ on you!”

“Don’t make me stab this weeding tool in your eye.”

…

“Seriously? Are you sure we can’t just stop here? I’m freezing!”

“Nope! We’re so close! Come on!! Just a little bit further!!”

…

“I’m so cold and tired.”

“I know, but after this, you can take a long hot shower while I get dinner together. We’re having steaks tonight!”

…

“How long do you think the car thing is going to take tomorrow night?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking, if we can get back home by 6ish, we could get that last chunk of the sod done tomorrow.”

“Are you crazy?”

“It’d be nice to have it all done.”

“Well, yes, but it’s going to be cold!”

“So, that’ll motivate us to move a little faster!”

“You are nuts.”

…

“There. That’s it. We reached the corner. I’m going in to thaw now.”

“We did it!! Woohoo!! Good job!! Go take a hot shower and I’ll get dinner started!”

…

It was later, when I was curled up under my blanket on the couch, after filling my belly with delicious steak and watching a great movie together, that I thanked Flash. It’s his comments that are in bold, afterall, not mine. Not that I was as cynical or quite as pessimistic as it reads, but he was certainly the cheerleader and the one who pushed on this third night of digging up sod. I told him how proud I was of him. Of his work ethic out there in the yard. That he really impressed me by not grumbling once this week, even though I know this garden isn’t his passion. I told him how much it touched me that when I ran upstairs to change my clothes, he got right outside so he could get a “head start” on me. He has worked his tail off hauling the sod to the pile in five gallon buckets.

This garden has been a dream of mine for a very very long time. But I had no idea that in addition to the amazing veggies and flowers that would grow there, so would my relationship with my boy. In just the few days we’ve been out there this week, covered in dirt, cold to the bone, my boy and I have laughed together, teased each other, talked about touchy, difficult topics. He doesn’t get paid for helping me in the garden. He didn’t get a shorter list of chores for the week in exchange. He’s been out there because he loves me.

And I made certain he knew how precious that gift was to me.

Very precious indeed.

He did it more than any other that I’ve dated. Perhaps because the situation just lent itself to it more often, but I think in part, because he knew it meant the world to me.

It was a simple gesture, one that might get overlooked after years in a relationship, but it always caught me off-guard; not the gesture itself, but the way it made me feel. He would come up behind me and wrap his arms around me and just stand there, holding me, without saying a word. I remember it most often as I was in the kitchen cooking, but he would do it while we waited on a table at a restaurant, too. The moment I felt his arms around me, I always had to stop whatever it was that I was doing. The emotion it caused in me was so strong, I wanted to savor it, to relish it, to close my eyes and take it all in. I would lean my head back against him and exhale.

He never said a word.

He didn’t need to. I could hear him loud and clear. There wasn’t a bone in my body that didn’t understand his message, that didn’t understand his intention.

“I’ve got you,” the embrace said. “Go ahead and fall.”

It’s no simple or common thing to feel that safe. There aren’t many times in my life that I have felt that secure with someone else. But in that moment, if only sometimes in that moment, I felt safer than I ever had. I could exhale. Truly. I could stand and feel arms around me – arms willing to hold me up, if need be. To hold me tight, to hold me back, to just hold. In that enclosure, I felt free.

It wasn’t just a promise of security from being alone. It wasn’t just something that said, “I’m here.” It was a moment that told me that I didn’t have to take care of it all. I didn’t have to be everything. “I’ve got you,” meant he had whatever it was that I might need. If that was nothing more than a hug, he was there. If that meant I needed someone to make some serious decisions with me, he was there.

I’ve thought about that a lot recently; maybe just because it doesn’t happen anymore. But I have come to realize that the embrace was a far different experience for him. There’s no real way in that sort of embrace for me to have wrapped my arms similarly around him. Even if I tried to replicate it, our size difference would have made it an awkward experience instead of an enveloping one. For him, perhaps, it filled the masculine desire to provide, to give safety, to give security, to give strength. Perhaps just my head falling back against him was enough for him to feel as cared for. I’ll never really know.

But of the things I miss most about being in a serious relationship, this is high on the list.