The Punchline

This morning I received a text message from my friend The Joker announcing that he's seeing someone. And, as it so happens, that someone is not me. He declares that he loves spending time with and talking to me and would love to continue doing just that, but he wanted to be honest and upfront about the situation.

So. There's that.

I'm definitely bummed, but I completely respect him for just telling me. He didn't owe me that, and he wasn't obligated to give an explanation. I applaud him for being a truly good guy. Now on to the next!

On deck? The Pilot. A sweet, handsome, Southern gentleman a couple of years older than me who went to Auburn and flies corporate jets for a living. We've done coffee and lunch and tonight is the natural next step... dinner. Cheesecake Factory. I'm pretty excited. I was also pretty excited when he asked me to fly with him on a private jet he was piloting to New York on Sunday, but alas, snow and wind made me nervous, and I declined. I felt like I'd turned down an opportunity to star in my very own Bachelor episode, so hopefully he'll bring a rose tonight to get me back in the game.

In other news, I hate roses.

And So It Goes

The next time I signed onto Match following the Kevin/Michael/Kevchael/Mikevin name debacle I had a new message from a new user named "Kal El." He'd sent me a lovely email that was, of course, signed "Kevin."

Clearly it's fate.

Rule #42 - The Name Game

After several days of exchanging Match messages, I was given a phone number. Today, I decided to text it.

Me: "Hi Kevin! It's Polka Dots from Match. Happy Friday to you!"
Response: "My name is Michael."

Well played. I see a long, happy future for me and Kev.

Rule #41

When preparing to bake cookies for your new coworkers, it is important to remember that there is quite a difference between chocolate chips and chocolate flavored chips. No matter how hard you try, mockolate and chocolate do not taste the same.

What Had Happened Was...

So this Match thing is growing on me. I'm actually really enjoying going on dates and meeting some fun people. Or, I was, until tonight.

You see, early, early on in the Match process it was suggested that I would be soul mates with a guy whose brother I "went out with" in middle school. Let me just say that that 7th grade romance was intense. In fact, upon breaking up, his brother announced that I was doomed to divorce in my adult life since I couldn't handle a real relationship, and that I convinced him to kiss dating goodbye until he got married. It was fantastic.

Anywho, fast forward to Match's suggestion. It's amazingly awkward to be matched with someone I know from real life, and when I was matched with the older brethren of my juvie-ex I just laughed. I was embarrassed because I knew he was seeing me, but I felt overall okay about it knowing that 1. he most likely didn't remember me (he's several years older) and 2. I would never see him in real life.

Well, seeing as how my life is like a poor man's Friends or other happy-go-lucky sitcom, our paths crossed. You see, this fellow (who doesn't even get a nickname right now) happens to volunteer with my church, and tonight we just so happened to be attending the same party at a mutual friend's house. CLEARLY, and I mean CLEARLY, we were both acutely aware that we knew the other one's secret. We were "Matched." So, I did what any one who is me would do in a situation that is less than pleasant: employ maximum avoidance techniques.

But as I should have predicted, these tactics were completely ignored, and he approached me directly. "Polka Dots, right? It's been like eight years! What have you been doing???" "Filling out online dating applications much like you, my friend," I nearly replied. Instead I couldn't even muster my fake, enthusiastic voice (and if I can't even pretend to be excited to be talking to you, which I am typically spectacular at doing, then you should give up) as I described the past few years. Then he went in for the kill, "Didn't you and my brother have a weird middle school thing?" "And by 'weird middle school thing,' I'm sure you mean 'wasn't my brother a psycho in middle school,' and in that case, yes," I struggled to internalize. He went on to tell me that his brother is now happily married, which just proves that he's some sort of demon prophet, and I haven't been able to hold down a relationship into matrimony, and he has.

I suddenly have this really uneasy feeling that I'm destined to either a life of loneliness, or worse, fated to become his sister-in-law.

The Cows & The Bees

The Bible describes the Promised Land as a place flowing with milk and honey. Utter decadence. But milk and honey are produced by cows and bees. Buzzing, stinging bees and stinky, patty dropping cows.

If you feel like you have arrived in the Promised Land that God has led you into, but you can't help but notice a faint odor, some stink on your shoe, or a sting on your arm, don't be discouraged. A promised land isn't a perfect land. There will still be trials and frustrations (the cows and the bees), but they serve as a reminder that even in the palm of God's will, reliance on the Father is necessary to receive the reward of milk and honey.

Remember James 1:2-5, which reminds us to, "Consider it pure joy, brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

And when you're in the midst of a field of cow patties, which assures one false step will be a "crappy" one, be encouraged by Philippians 4:8-9, which urges, "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things."

Milk and honey surely flows in the land where God leads, but don't be surprised when you have to battle a few bees and cows in the same place. When you see them, you know that the reward will follow shortly.