My lease is up, so I’m moving across town. I was looking at apartments, houses, duplex homes, and have decided POFing is like house hunting. I’m renting right now and I looked at several places before I decided which one I wanted to wake up in for the next year. If I were purchasing a home, I’d look at several more before committing to the first thing I will see every morning. I looked at several floor plans before I even went out to see one, and it's the same here: a profile is like a floor plan, and our first date is like checking out the apartment before deciding which one to lease or maybe a lease-purchase option.
What I’m looking for on POF is someone to wake up next to every morning. I’m not going to decide that on our first date. My experience has been that most email contact through POF never leads to a meeting in the real world.Hey, I don’t feel interested in everyone who email me first, either ;) My expectation is that most emails don’t lead to meeting in person but I try to reply to everyone. Grammar is important. I will read your profile to see if we have common interests, something to talk about the first time we meet up, and I presume you have read mine if you contact me first.
I hope we meet soon, so we can talk about intentions, goals, aspirations, dreams. I like caramel coffee. I like listening to your interests, hobbies. I like talking about mine. I am seeking a traveling companion. I want the whole world.
I am creative, well-educated and very disorganized. The thing that scares me more than anything is blowing out a tire while speeding on the highway. I'm in the process of putting my body back together after having a baby last year, not as easy as it was when I was younger. I'm more likely to hula hoop by a campfire than go out dancing at a club. I love a well-told story, especially over coffee beside a campfire.
I'm a single mother of a teenage son and a toddler daughter. I am drama free.
I believe most things are negotiable. Except the way you squeeze the toothpaste.
I'm an aspiring writer, which means I write, but haven't published anything yet. Also means I'm kinda dreamy, an outlier. Long distance romance is okay as long as it involves lots of writing. Not texting. I like to travel, I like to learn, to see new places and meet new people. I have favorite places to visit, too. I miss my old life, I miss having the freedom to go with little notice to somewhere a whole gas tank away from wherever I am to camp for three days in a National Park because I never leave home without a tent and sleeping bag, just in case. I have a stroller in my trunk now where my tent used to go. I miss hiking beside geysers and exploring ancient ruins.
I miss snuggling against a warm chest, wrapped in strong arms, savoring the languor in my bones. I spend most of my days at work; I'm a volunteer coordinator for an internationally respected nonprofit builder. When I'm not working, I fold tiny pink clothes, cook delicious meals for my two kids, and sing the alphabet song again. My life is good, but I think it could be better.
All I’m missing is you.
“If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.”
? Thomas Merton
Twice around the Civic Center is four miles, that's enough time to decide if we'll want to see each other again :)
We'll meet downtown for coffee early; it's still chilly out. Coffee with caramel and whipped cream and make up stories about the others in the coffee shop. Where are they from? Why are they here? I'm wearing my green boots because they match my eyes. I'm sitting across from you so I can delight in the sight of you while I swirl the rich coffee around on my tongue. You're telling me a fantastic story about the girl over there who's "not looking" at the guy on the computer with his headphones on, seemingly oblivious. She's a spy, sent to get him. He knows her; they used to work for the same side but now they're bitter enemies.
We slip out the back door to the courtyard, laughing because we're too clever to get caught between them when the sparks begin to fly!
And we walk, my hand in the crook of your arm, the sunshine warms the day as we reach a winery. We sit outside, away from everyone but in full view so they can watch with envy while we taste several varietals from Spain and Italy and a rare South African Pinot; my lips are burgundy and I relax into your chest to collect my thoughts against your warmth. The wine makes me purr and your hand covers mine; I feel delicate and protected.
We walk again, this time to the waterfall (I love the sound of water, falling, trickling) Just beyond those rocks, to the left, is the entrance to another world. It looks just like this one, so deceptively clever, but it's not. Or maybe it's just another layer on top of this world where we can see everyone else but they can't see us; we're free.
Free to bite and scratch and scream
Or just take off my green boots and trail my toes in the cool water and lay my head in your lap to watch cloud pictures while your fingers comb my hair.