The Problem of Possible

I begin this post fittingly accompanied the by strains of the Disney classic "Someday My Prince Will Come." Tonight, however, instead of the slightly ridiculous soprano there are plaintive notes of Miles Davis's trumpet. Now the song has a sort of wistfulness, removing any remnant of the two dimensional apple-cheeked heroine.

The Davis version conjures images a woman at the mercy of his desire to contact her.
Women have been wishing and hoping since before Dusty put it into song. As America marched west there were women making innocent but incessant inquiries to the post office; their queries increasing in frequency and desperation with each passing day. Later in the century, there was many a woman spending her Saturday nights, dressed to the nines nights--expectantly staring the phone. Flash forward once more, through the feminist revolution and all it waves, there's a new breed of woman. She is empowered and intelligent,with appropriately high self-esteem. There she is... checking her e-mail to the point of compulsion. For the last week , gentle reader, I have been the third woman.

In response to my most honest Craigslist ad I received a reply from a guy who was perfect on paper-- or, more accurately, perfect in e-mail ( he shall henceforth be known as PIE). PIE says he's "a liberal, progressive Christian." PIE has favorite poets. PIE has stories to tell about his labor organizing. PIE is very cute in an indie kind of way.

I thrilled at the prospect of PIE and immediately wrote him back, then I forwarded his response to Millie for her take. Here are her words, exactly:

"Yes. yes, yes!

Smart skinny white boy -- he's perfect for you! I don't know why but I got a good feeling about this one."

Yet, my reply had no answer. After two days, I was forcing myself to give him up. My male housemates who introduced me to this world Craigslist dating said that if someone doesn't contact you after two days, they aren't likely to. I took them at their word and found myself grousing to a friend at work. She replied with a faux slap and a bit of exasperation, "He's a grad student! He teaches! He probably has no time. Wait a little longer."

Here is the problem, the internet provides numerous ways for us to contact each other. It also has many ways this communication can go wrong and thus, infinite excuses we can make for silence. This may come in handy when forgetting your friend's birthday pretending to never have received a memo but it makes the dating game that much more suck.

We get lots of rules--from friends, from our parents, from poorly written yet extremely popular books. They tell us when to call back, when to expect a call, when to kiss and they're never quite right; they exist to make us guard our hearts while still putting ourselves out there. If you read these books you'll find their advice boils down to just a few cautionary tips: hope but not too much, give but not too often and often you should and must to walk away. There are always exceptions to the rules and we hope in those exceptions because that's where the magic is, where everything we heard in all those songs is true.

Love is an unruly, unquantifiable entity; on a level, we know the rules from various sources won't get us true love--that just happens. It's the difference between God and religion. The former works in God's own time, on God's own schedule --often without our knowledge. The latter was created by man so we feel we have participated. God would not cease to exist if all the churches closed tomorrow, nor would love cease to exist if everyone gave up dating. Yet, believing by itself is hard, so we keep busy with our rituals until our faith is rewarded.

I've not heard from PIE and doubt I ever will. PIE might have gotten back together with his old girlfriend. PIE might have been hit by a bus. PIE may have had a sexual awakening and now hosts drag bingo. I'll never know but I am smart enough to write him off, finally. The romantic in me may protest a little, but she'll get over it. (Besides if he does write me back, at this point, it would be such an exception that we'd have to get married and I'm not there yet.) Regardless, I will solider on with different ads or blind dates or singles ballroom. I do believe that someday my prince will come but until he does, I'll keep busy while keeping the faith.