Update

Well, my fishing expedition has had a very busy first week.

I read in a book somewhere that when the British ruled India, young ladies of good family would embark on the long perilous journey from Old Blighty across land and sea to exotic, faraway India to catch a husband. Many, many of England's best and brightest young men served in the British army and were employed by the British East India Company, and were posted to exotic locations all over the Raj, from Kashmir to Bombay to Delhi to Cawnpore.

These brave soldiers probably ended up feeling somewhat harried when the ships sailed into the Indian harbors and all the eager young memsahibs disembarked with their governesses and nannies -. and their formidable Victorian mamas - in tow. In fact, this book said that the men referred to the flocks of disembarked eligible unmarried young - and not-so-young - mems fresh from Home as the "fishing fleet."

There. That was a complete non sequitur and my first bit of trivia. I must confess, I do love trivia, and I have a brain full of it; be warned, I may trot out random bits of it here and there as the thought processes connect the dots in my brain.

Anyway, it has been an eventful week. Let's see...I've been dumped once already.

My email inbox is full to bursting with new prospects every night. I'm trying to keep up, but man, this is beginning to feel like a full-time job! Go in, give 'em a quick once-over, check height (anyone under 5'8" is an instant candidate for closure; remember, I'm close to 6 feet tall!), check spelling (anyone who can't tell the difference between "your" and "you're" is another instant candidate for closure), pause momentarily on their location, because a match from a red, red state might not be such a good idea - considering that I'm about as liberal as you can get.

And I do one final check for their religion (I chose "neither spiritual nor religious" as my selection, since I'm an out-of-the-closet atheist); if it says "Christian" I go straight to their "What I Can't Live Without" lines - and if it says anything about Jesus, their wonderful savior or their church, they go straight to the Close Match dustbin. I've got no patience for that!

I'm communicating with three delightful gentlemen, Jeff, Alex and now Willie. Alex and Willie and I are still doing the Guided Communication dance, with its attendant back-and-forthing.

Jeff and I, on the other hand, are about to embark upon the sea of "Open Communication," where we can share our thoughts unfettered by Eharmony's rigid structure. And I must confess, dear reader, that that makes me nervous. This is where I lose my confidence in my ability to charm; what do I do? Send my phone number? My email address? Set up a meet-and-greet over coffee at Starbuck's (now, isn't that a cliche??)?

If you have any advice for me, believe me, it's most welcome! What on earth do you say to someone you've never met, when you're worried that he might think you're too fat? You can post a comment at the end of this (and every other) blog entry, and I promise I'll read them. Oh - and thanks in advance!

Love,

Maggie