Meet Adam

For the first time in a very long time, I was excited about someone. He is the first guy in while that I haven't described as "Well, he's not ugly." Adam is legitimately of the good looking bunch. A nice smile and curly hair, his photo made all my girlfriends "ooh" with delight.

Secondly, Adam is sincere. He doesn't play games. Whereas I waited 24 hours before responding, he always responded to me within a couple of hours. And if he wasn't near a computer, he would type out an e-mail through his phone and send it that way.

We bonded immediately. We live 2 miles from each other and attend the same activities and events. It's amazing that we haven't run into each other before. "We probably have," Adam once wrote.

Within a week of e-mailing I was referring to him around the office as my future husband. I said it purely in a joking fashion. The others had unfavorable nicknames like What's-his-face, so I had to let it be known that I liked this guy.

I still had one major reservation about him, he's 36, 11 years my senior. Er, and he has a kid. And divorced.

I knew all this going into my date last night.

Dinner was not without its awkward pauses. I didn't feel that thing, that "where have you been all my life?" He stared into my eyes, a move that always intimidates me, causing me to look sideways and play with my napkin. When I spoke using hand gestures, he would break eye contact to watch my hands. It made me feel silly. The only other time I ever noticed someone watching my hands was during an unfortunate incident involving the police.

I knew the date was going well when he paid the check (I barely had to fake reach before he shot me down-- major bonus points) and made no effort to end the date. Another hour passed by and we talked about families. A second hour after dinner was over passed and we talked about other plans we have to do together.

"I knew we had a connection just by your e-mails. I've never felt that way with anyone else," he said.

"I know. But I had to wait and see you to make sure you didn't Photoshop out your third eye," I gestured wildly with my hands and he watched.

"But I haven't taken off my shirt yet," he smiled.

I laughed. "So would you want to do this again?"

"What?"

"This. Us." Years of training keeps me from even saying the d-word.

"Absolutely."

The restaurant closed down and we walked into the rainy night. He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek and said he would call me soon. This morning he sent an e-mail saying he had a great time.

I had a good time too, but I no longer feel the need to call him my future husband. Even though we have so much in common, we are both coming from some very different places. I can't help but to approach this cynically.