"Hello, Sonja?" said the very pleasant female voice on the other end of my cell phone.
"Yup," I answered.
"Hi, this is Tammy from It's Just Lunch, returning your phone call. Is this a bad time?" she inquired.
Well, only if you consider that I've burned a hole in this town trying to find Mr. Wonderful, only to kiss oodles of Princes that eventually turn into frogs. And that I'm condemned to a life that includes watching my very handsome, very successful former spouse get on with his life with his much-younger-than-me wife, whose outsides affect my insides on a daily basis as she lives out the life I so carelessly walked out on.
Couple that with the fact that I'm considered in some circles to be the "Bad Luck Schleprock of Dating" because every time I even come close to finding what I insist is the only thing missing from my otherwise seemingly perfect life—other than high, tight buns and the crucial facial elasticity of my youth—I run in the opposite direction as fast as I can. I'm terrified that I'll fail again and therefore be sentenced to a life of celibacy and loneliness. So yes, I suppose you could say that this is a bad time.
I didn't answer. She sensed my hesitation and jumped in.
"I can't tell you how excited I was to get your message. Are you familiar with how we work?" she asked enthusiastically.
Sure, you charge me what I consider to be a large lump of cashola to set me up with various men who, like me, are old, tired, depressed, desperate and fed up with the bar scene, for lunch dates, where I will sit across from all these nameless, faceless men, many of them hoping and praying that I will be charming and delightful enough to warrant a second date. And then if they don't call, I will be left feeling even more bitter than ever before because I actually paid to be rejected.
"No. Not familiar," I said. I know it seems like I have a bad attitude, but I had placed the call to her silly little dating service after having experienced my skillionth emotional breakdown in the seven years since my divorce.
I think it was somewhere between mowing my own lawn and having to replace all four tires and the rear brake pads of my SUV that had me up in arms and deciding that I was sick and tired of being alone and in charge of taking care of everything that the man in my life should be taking care of; only at the present time, he was M.I.A.
However, now that I'd conquered those tasks and lived to tell, I was feeling like I could survive on my own—that is, until the next set of no-man-tastrophes set in once again, slapping me in the face with the reality that I am a woman alone. My instincts were now telling me to just batten down the hatches and ride it out without trying to force the situation by enlisting the help of yet another "Your-soul-mate-is-just-a-phone-call-away," scam-artist dating service.
I wanted to apologize to Tammy for wasting her time and explain that I was no longer interested, but there was something in her voice that kept me on the phone. Maybe it was her enthusiasm, maybe it was the hint of hopefulness I detected in the tone of her voice, or maybe I was desperate enough to talk about spending a large sum of money to put an end to the misery of being single. Whatever the case, I listened intently to what she had to say.
She explained that we had to set up a face-to-face interview where she would ask me a series of questions about my likes, my dislikes, my interests, what turns me on, what turns me off and of course, the ever-so-simple question: What kind of man are you looking for? Then, she explained, after meeting me in person, she would have to establish if she even had men that fit the profile I was looking for and then set up lunch dates to have us get acquainted. If she didn't have what I was in search of, she'd have to "put me on the back burner" until someone signed up who met my needs.
"So loosely translated, what you're really saying is that you have to get a look at me and if I don't cut the mustard, you kindly put my information in the 'back-burner' file, never to be seen again?" I asked in a sardonic tone, sarcasm and disappointment dripping from every word.
"No," she answered sweetly, "that's not it at all. Sonja, at It's Just Lunch, we cater to busy professionals who are interested in meeting other available singles, but who don't have the time or the inclination to use bars and nightclubs as an avenue hoping to find someone with similar interests. We interview you to get a good feel for who you are and whom you would be the most compatible with. It's a fun, safe way to meet lots of really great, educated, professional men that are looking for the same thing you are, a relationship. So instead of thinking of it as 'spending a lot of money to hire a dating service,' why not consider it for what it really is: an investment in your future."
She had me at "great men looking for a relationship." I set up an appointment to meet with her the first thing in the morning. And what do you know? After speaking with the oh-so-positive-and-hopeful Tammy, something happened ... her enthusiasm was catching.
Suddenly, I got really excited about lunch.
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?