The weekend had arrived, romance was in the air, and after a hard several days at work, I was so in the mood for love. I was looking good, feeling good, had a wallet filled with cash, and was ready, willing and able to do anything my hot, beautiful date desired. Life was filled with sweet potential. There was just one tiny problem - I didn't have a hot, beautiful date. I didn't have a date, period. I was the sequel to Sleepless in Seattle - Dateless in Los Angeles.
While being dateless on the weekend is not an unusual state of affairs for a single person in a big city, I just didn't feel like surrendering to the standard carryout food and video option. I wanted to go out. I wanted to have some fun. And not with my male friends, commiserating about how hard it is to meet someone. Oh, sure, there were my platonic female friends, but I wanted romance. There were bars and parties and dances, but I'm not a bars and parties and dances kind of guy. There were escort services, but I wanted to be with someone who wanted to be with me, not someone who was being paid to be with me. Unless, of course, it was Salma Hayak, but she has yet to respond to my offers of payment.
That's when the solution occurred to me. And it was one that, strangely enough, I'd never even considered before. It was this: I would ask out someone I knew would be available, knew everything about, was good looking, healthy, had a wonderful personality, shared all my interests, was romantic and passionate, and was really fun to be with. That's right, my plan was to ask out the only one I knew who fit those qualifications and was available - I planned to ask myself out on a date.
Oh, sure, I understood that there would be certain limitations, but any person you meet has certain limitations. I understood that some people wouldn't approve, but, hey, I'm not dating for their approval; I'm dating to make myself happy. Besides, think of all the money I'd be saving. And if it didn't work out, it was just one night, anyway. My mind was made up.
I spent the next several hours trying to figure out the exact words, the perfect way, to ask myself out. It had to be just the right mixture of sincerity, confidence, attraction and humor. After all, I didn't want to alienate myself right from the start. I wanted to set the right tone. So I prepared my approach, waited 'til just the right moment, when I knew I'd be in a good mood and receptive, and made my move.
I asked myself out and, to my delight, accepted the invitation. I was dizzy with the evening's possibilities. My friend Ron called to see if I wanted to grab a burger and commiserate about how hard it is to meet someone, but I told him I already had a hot date for the night. He asked if it was a sure thing. I said I could pretty much count on it. Boy was he envious! I shaved, showered, brushed my teeth, used mouthwash (twice!), and put on my best cologne and sexiest clothing that was soft to the touch. Oh, yeah, I was ready.
At my favorite Italian restaurant, I requested an out-of-the-way table so I'd have some privacy with myself. Things got off to an awkward start; after all, this was our first date. But I managed to break the ice with a rather amusing story about one of my co-workers, and before long, I was chattering away with myself as though we'd been friends for a lifetime. During the meal, my chemistry with myself was so strong that I scarcely noticed anyone else in the restaurant. We were in our own private world. I gave myself playful little touches and at one point, just before dessert, even played footsie with myself under the table, giggling like a schoolgirl.
The rest of the evening seemed to fly by. I found I had even more in common with myself than I'd imagined. We talked about our plans for the future, our hopes, our dreams, our fears. There was a real connection. Back home, I dimmed the lights, put on some smooth, romantic music, poured us both some wine, and lit a candle. No words were exchanged, no words were necessary, but we both realized what was about to happen, and we both wanted it. It was a magical, remarkable evening of love, and I learned that it is true what they say - sometimes you don't realize that your perfect romantic partner is right in front of your nose.
It's always very flattering to me when I hear something appreciative from my romantic partner the morning after a particularly wonderful evening of love. So I'd like to share with you the email I received from myself the next day. "Mark, I just wanted you to know how very special and wonderful our time together last night was for me. As you know, as difficult as it is to meet someone you like well enough to ask out on a date, it's even more so to find a really deep romantic connection with someone. I felt we had that connection. Not to give you a swelled head, but I've never encountered someone who was so warm, giving, intelligent, interesting, -- in short, so amazing. It's no wonder our chemistry was so electric and the sex was so mind-blowing. If last night was a dream, I pray that I never wake up. All I know for sure is that I can't wait to be with you again, to experience the magic that we make together, to give myself to you totally, body and soul. I want you. Passionately -- Mark."
I'm not one to kiss and tell, but I will say that we've been together about seven months now, and, well, if loving me is wrong, I don't want to be right.