Happy New Year!

And so it begins. The Big Manhunt. The Eharmony Safari.

I'm communicating with one of my matches, Tom. This is what they call "guided communication." You have these eight stages, a back-and-forth dance that you have to go through before you can reach the nirvana of "Open Communication" and tell each other your phone number or last name and set up that initial meeting or phone call. At each stage, either one of us can close the match if we read something along the way that convinces us that it's not going to work out.

He contacted me first, by sending me his first five questions - you pick them off a long list. There are some serious ones and some more light-hearted questions. You can answer them by picking one of the choices provided, or you can write in your own answer. I prefer - mostly - to write in my own answers, because those silly canned answers just don't tell the whole story. Here are a few of the questions I answered:

How important is chemistry to you?

My answer was one of the canned ones: I think chemistry can be generated over the long term with someone I really like.

That answer, canned or not, works for me. Next question:

Your idea of adventure is:

My answer was freeform: Anything I've never done before - anything can be an adventure!

He wanted to know about my fashion preferences (stylish, but quirky) and my pets (he now knows about my four cats).

Then it was my turn to send him my five silly questions. I asked him how he felt about traditional gender roles (no male chauvinists, please!), how often he laughs (gotta have a sense of humor!) and whether he likes discussing current events and "the issues of the day." I also sent him the pet question; I guess I'm trying to ferret out whether or not he faints at the sight of a fresh hairball.

His answers? Well, he gets a B-. He wants me in the kitchen, and he gets to do the manly man stuff. The big worry is that he says he's "not a pet person."

That could be a problem. "Not a pet person" can be secret code for compulsive neat freak - which will NOT work with me. I'm an indifferent housekeeper with a fairly high tolerance for clutter and four cats, which means cat hair, cat litter and the occasional cat accident, which generally involves some rather nasty looking liquid with chunks in it.

Well, no judgments like that yet.

Anyway, next are the "Must Haves/Can't Stands" - a list of ten things each that you must have and can't stand in a partner. You get to pick from a laundry list of virtues and sins. My must haves generally revolve around character; I want someone smart, affectionate and honest, with a generous nature, a good sense of humor and a willingness to resolve conflicts. My can't stands are also strongly character-correlated: I do not want someone who lies, who uses drugs, who is a hypocrite or religious freak, a racist or a bigot.

So, I duly send along my Must Haves and Can't Stands.

He sends me his Must Haves/Can't Stands. Hmmmm. His Must Haves/Can't Stands read like a list of what he wants in an employee: financially responsible, industrious, loyal, responsible; I cannot be lazy, and I must be clean and sexy.

Do I sound like I'm trying to talk myself out of meeting with this guy? Those MH/CS of his are a little concerning to me. But, I soldier on - let's be fair here, right?

So - on to the next step, sending the 2nd set of three questions. This time, you can make up your own. So I decide to address that cleanliness thing. I ask, "You said you can't stand someone who "isn't clean." Could you please define that?" and I went on to add a bit of explanation, "I just want to know that you won't lose your temper over a couple of dirty dishes in the sink."

I chose one more serious question, "What are you looking for in a relationship partner" and one silly question, "If you had 3 wishes, what would they be?" (I like the imagination aspect of that kind of question.)

Now, I'm waiting for his answers. Or he may decide that I'm a crazy cat hoarder and he wants nothing more to do with me and close the match. Or I may decide he's an authoritarian neat freak who hates cuddly little animals and close the match.

We'll see, won't we?

Love,

Maggie