By Betsy Ashton
While driving back from a terrific writers conference recently, I thought about how to pull together my second blog for this month. I kicked around dozens of ideas during my windshield time. I didn't have a spark of inspiration until I got home and checked e-mail. Staring me in the face was a world of opportunities. All I had to do was point and click.
Somewhere along the line, dating sites got on to me. Daily I get invites to join and find the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armor. Forget the fact that I wake up with the man of my dreams every day. These sites don't want to know from reality. They offer fantasy. On one day here were my choices.
Christian Mingle said I should join and find Christ, the man of my dreams and a life of worship and religion, all for joining a social networking site. Hmm. A couple of things are wrong with this. First, I'm happily married, so cheating seems a violation of the Christian Mingle guidelines. Still, there is the invitation. I have another bit of a problem with this invitation. I'm a Buddhist. 'Nuff said.
J-Date thought I should hook up with a nice Jewish boy. Again, guidelines suggested it would help if I were Jewish, but it isn't necessary. Singlehood is, however. Don't think I'm going to divorce my husband in hopes of finding a nice Jewish boy. I married one of them once. 'Nuff said.
I had my choice of hot Asian singles, hot black studs, Indian men and hot, horny marrieds in my area who wanted a casual hook up. In my area? Most of the people are retired in my area. I'm not sure there's much spark left, but it has promise. For someone else.
I was laughing so hard when I opened a couple of these sites that my husband had to provide mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. And it wasn't even night, but it was kinda hot. I thought about looking on Craig's List (yes, there was an entry for men looking for love in all the wrong places), but I was bored.
I thought about all the hot August nights I've enjoyed with my husband in California, New York, Tokyo, Bangkok, Singapore, Hong Kong, Austin, Houston -- you get the idea. The more I thought about my good luck in meeting my Mr. Wonderful in a bar in Tokyo thirty years ago, the more I decided not to answer any of the ads in my inbox. I moved them into the spam folder and emptied it.
I'll stay with the best man I ever met. And I didn't even have to advertise on the web to find him. Enjoy your fantasies and realities of love in the month of August. He's my knight, no matter that he doesn't have armor. No better time to be in love, unless it's the other eleven months of the year.