Find Someone

Find Someone

(Not just anyone)

My FSO profile pic

I began contemplating dipping into the dating pool again after several factors kicked in:

1) I started feeling settled in New Zealand (it's hard to date when you're globe-trotting with 2 small children)

2 We passed the one-year mark after Sean's death. There was something important and necessary about living through every holiday, every season, before spending time with another man. And dating before a year's up seemed gauche. I know it's okay for some, but didn't feel right for me.

3) I finally admitted to myself I was lonely for male companionship and missed having a guy around. When you've played Yin to someone else's Yang; Jelly to their peanut butter; Tenille to their Captain (bad 70's reference, I know), it's hard to imagine life alone.

The challenge: Finding a suitable date in a foreign country where I knew hardly a soul. At first, I joined a church-based singles' group. I met 2 dozen women and 1.5 men (only a slight exaggeration). I liked these people, but needed to broaden my circle. I started asking women at church, in my running club, at the widow's group: "How did you meet your partner?" (Kiwis often use the term "partner" in lieu of spouse or boyfriend. Say "partner" in the States, and you're either gay, lesbian or in business with someone). The number one answer, one that kept rearing its cyber-head again and again: "Find Someone." Find Someone (FSO, for short http://www.findsomeone.co.nz/) is a New Zealand dating website that claims almost 7,000 members where I'm living, in the Bay of Plenty (another site, NZDating.co.nz claims 18,000 local members, but I've yet to meet anyone who's used that site). 

If this was to be my "year of living dangerously," (and it has been so far), then I should try something I probably wouldn't do at home in Spokane: Put myself on the open market via the Internet. Heck, when I submitted the equivalent of a human classified ad 2 months ago, I barely knew anyone in this country. Hello, sweet anonymity. Do the same thing in Spokane, and I'd likely be subjected to Q & A: Q: "Aren't you the News Lady?" A: Used to be. Not anymore. Q: "I used to watch you on TV. What's it like to read the news?" A: Not glamorous. Next question.

Here in Aotearoa, I'm free to re-invent myself. What you see is what you get. Or is it? Who knows. I created a profile name, "MtMaunganewbie," (because I lived in Mt. Maunganui) and included the following:

I'm extroverted and adventurous. I enjoy running, writing and relaxing in a cafe with a nice cup of coffee or glass of wine. I'm in NZ as part of a world tour with my children following the death in January 2010 of my husband (their father). I love to travel, although pushing, pulling and dragging 2 small fries (ages 5 & 7) around the globe has its challenges. I'm an American from Spokane, Washington. I've lived in Europe and speak French and Luxembourgish. I write (sometimes) a blog: http://www.pickendawn.blo­gspot.com

Sense of humor is key. You must be able to laugh at yourself and along with me, too. Also must love travel and be fit. I'd like to find someone who enjoys good food and wine and has seen some of the world. Must have a kind heart - are you the neighbor who helps others?

FSO provides space for a "one-liner," such as these headlines I found on Kiwi blokes' profiles: "Creative, friendly and focused;" "I don't believe I'm doing this;" "Want something completely different? Then click here," and "Merely Mortal." I didn't include a one-liner, but probably should have written something like, "Looking for a date, not a mate." Bugger. Also, I could've been more upfront about who I'd consider for a longer-term partner:

Wanted: Male. Must have own car and a pulse. Prefer an Edward Cullen type (i.e., vampire). Pale skin and red lips okay. Immortality essential.

When you're a transient, though, you don't need to date the undead. Just passing through. One year and out. The criteria's different. In all seriousness (as much as my snarky self can muster), it's fine to screen short-term partner wanna-be's differently than potential members of the not-quite-a-lifetime club. I've removed my reporter's hat and shelved the note pad. Not asking hard questions about faith, finance, fidelity or any other f-words. I don't have to, right. Right? Bueller? Bueller?

I did ask myself what and who I wanted for the near-term: Someone funny, kind, smart, cute, with time for dating and relating. Someone local, because I'm not commuting to Auckland (2.5 hours by car) for a relationship. Someone free of tangled ties to an ex-wife. He also should relate well to my children, but be mindful of the fact I'm NOT seeking to replace Fiona and Finley's dad. I don't need someone for my kids. I want someone for me. Kiddos and I are, however, a package deal.

Buoyed by Short-timer Syndrome, shrouded in a cloak of anonymity, I "put myself out there," to see what might happen. I have to admit, my confidence about the opposite sex after being widowed and traveling the world was about as high as a ready-to-eat feijoa fruit (feijoas fall to the ground when they're ripe). I'm 40, with 2 small children and a decade of memories as someone else's spouse. Who wants that? Apparently, plenty of Kiwi men, because within 2 weeks of creating a profile on FSO, more than 100 "smiles," (a way of telling someone you like their picture, profile, or both) bobbled in my inbox, along with dozens of messages. Some were chocka with lazy prose (names changed to protect the guilty and innocent): 
"Hi I have read your profile and would like to know if you are interested in chatting with me." 

Seth (47, Rotorua) Uh, no. Thanks.

Or this, from "Porpoise 456:" Hi I like your profile if you are interested in finding out more about me please get back to me."

Uh, no. Thanks.

Some, like "Fiasco's" were plain odd: "so ..... what about your ideal bloke then?....
a/. meek and mild
b/ willing to throw you over his shoulder on the odd occasion
c/ ready to put you over his knee should the need ever arise
what a great smile you have!!!! ... lovely"

Uh, no. Thanks.

"Rav 10" wrote,

"hi
how r u...this is rav from epsom..pls reply if u like my profile..bye.have a great day "
Uh, no. Thanks.

This comes from "Grasscutter: 
"Hi i sent you a smile I see you have done tv I work on flim set if you are keen would like to get to no you."

You can "no" me, alright. Why do I suddenly feel like everyone's English teacher?

Other would-be suitors took time to actually read my profile (there's a concept), or better yet, read my blog to learn more about this person they wanted to chat up, feel up, or both.

"Come with Me" wrote,

"Good on you. I've enjoying reading and laughing at the challenges you encounter and relate through your blog.
I can so readily empathise with your experiences. I'm a widower with two daughters, my wife passed away four years ago from breast cancer.
Just to let you know that things to get easier, as your children grow up. But it is great to treasure the moments while they are young and think that you are the greatest person in their world."

"Alpine Guy," from Auckland, messaged:

"Hi you dont see a lot of journalists on here ! Was always interested to be one myself. Imagined myself as a foreign correspondent. Nice profile. So sorry to hear you lost your husband. That must be devastating. Hope your having a great 2011 though cheers."
Then, later:
"Your probably looking for a local connection.
I just thought Id mention that I read your blog " Can you relate" It was a great read! It was really interesting and insightful to get an Americans viewpoint on my fellow countrymen and culture.
Not sure if your interested but here I go anyway haha ;
I had to make a massive adjustment to fit in here when I wqs 11 although I was born here my parent s travelled to the UK and South America ( Venezuela ) and I didnt return until 77.
Your quite right about Nzrs being clique ( sorry dont know plural for that) We can be very intense , introspective and uptight. However it may take a while but once a stranger (local or not) or foreigner is accepted they become as family.
I wonder if you will settle in NZ though. I have travelled the world with an eye to emigrating and nowhere is quite as magnetic ,real and raw as Nz. Although from what little Ive seen of Oregon in windsurfing videos really appeals to me..."


I enjoyed "Europeguy's" thoughtful messages, including the following:
"Hi Dawn
You truly are an amazing lady.
I would try not to worry tooooo much about Fiona and Finley.
I am not able to express my thoughts as eloquently as you do, but if a tragedy like your family has gone through has to happen for whatever reason, then your kids are incredibly fortunate to have the Mum they do to carry on living life through it...or should that be Mom? :)
And no-one should live without chocolate cake for 13 years... haha I'm glad you said cake, it made me imagine arriving for a date with you with a gift and saying "here you go, I have some chocolates for you ;)"

"Your Dream Man" wrote:

"Hi and welcome to New Zealand
I do hope you are enjoying the country and the people whom I am sure you will find very friendly
I took the liberty of taking a look at your blog - tragic that you lost Sean so early in your and your childrens lives together and if I can encourage you in anything at all, it is that while Sean was with you all he would surely have experienced what real love was and he obviously accepted and responded to that in an wonderful unconditional way...
Wud you like to talk??"

Dude, you live in Auckland. Too far. Sorry.

I've only met 4 guys from FSO in person: 2 Peters, 1 Mike and 1 Craig. The first 3 had potential. The last guy was the only bona-fide ass-munch (my friend, Mark, uses that descriptor, and I quite like it) of the bunch. Craig insisted on getting together while he was in town from Auckland. I was 15 minutes late meeting him at a pub. He sent the following string of texts in advance of our visit:

Hv the visitors gone?

Did u want 2 meet?
I'm in Pyes Pa, I cud meet u in tga?
Ok. 7:30pm, c u then
Wot r u wearing? Meet u outside. R u far away?
I thort we said 7:30
Shake yr booty then, as i look like a spare prick at wedding waitn outside a pub
Eta?
B rite ther
I should've gone with my gut and said, "No way, Jose," but curiosity got the best of me. Mr. "Spare Prick" seemed – surprise – uptight. He had the neat, groomed appearance of a Metrosexual – someone who probably spent more time in front of a mirror than me. Funny, I never heard from him after our meeting. I will survive.

In each case, before each rendez-vous, I had deja-vu about job interviews. Hair? Check. Makeup? Check. Resume? Wait, I don't need that, despite the fact I 'm like a woman who's forsaken the Career Ladder for the Mommy Track, and was now seeking, years later, to re-enter the workforce. 

  "My references? Um, they're a bit dated, unlike myself, which has not been dated

for a long, long time. Past experience? Yes, 10 years as satisfied spouse.

I can be a pain in the ass, though. I'm impatient. Can be compulsively neat.

Have been known to yell at my kids. Like to be alone. Maybe not as much as I thought."

Wading into the dating pool at age 40 due to widowhood is not unlike getting canned from a job at the same age. You're "out there," but not by choice. You possess the wisdom of experience, plus the wear-and-tear of an older model car.  

"She's got extra miles/kilometers on her. Reckon she'll last another few years before we have to rebuild the engine/inject her face with toxins/bring her to a plastic surgeon for a total overhaul?" 

No one knows. I will say I'm more comfortable in my own skin after four decades of life than at age 20. And I've already proven myself relatively skilled at partnership. I've done the marriage thing. The mommy thing. It's time to do the dating thing. The just-for-kicks-thing.

That's why I briefly exchanged messages with a 27-year-old ("McDreamy"). I told my Aunt Leslie I was flirting online with a young'un, and she said, "Dawn, he's the same age as your cousin!" Yes, but I'm not trying to channel a relative right now. McDreamy's picture was hot. His writing, however, was not. Here's what he e-mailed when I asked if he'd like to meet for coffee:

"...something has gone in my car and i had bn having a little trouble with it.i took it to my garrage and they plughed in the computer into a plug to see what was going on and the part is dying so i have to replace it as i use it every day.its a common thing and im upset to a extent to a degree.
but it did sound good thou
give me bout to weeks or so to get this bill out of the way."

Hey, McDreamy – fug-ged about it. My flatmate pointed out I wouldn't be dating him for his brains. I'm not sure I could get past the fact this youngster couldn't string together a sentence. Or sort the Zen of the coffee date whilst his vehicle's garaged. I'm sure the 2 can coexist. It's okay – just a case of unfulfilled curiosity. I don't need to meet a hot, dense Toy Boy (They reverse "Boy Toy" in NZ) just to confirm he's cute as a puppy but dumb as a brick. Maybe he's incredibly bright, but just can't write. Whatever.

I've shelved online dating at the moment. One of those dates – the one that felt least like a job interview and more like the rekindling of an old friendship, has blossomed into something. Wonderful. I'll tell you about it...next time.