this evening and when I answered a guy asked to speak to someone with an unusual and very familiar name, just not my given name. A screen name I used for a while. He told me his name and that didn’t ring a bell. I said “what are you calling about?” and he said I had responded to his personal ad and he was just now returning the call. I started laughing, partly because I thought it was funny and partly because I felt nervous about life catching up with me. “That’s got to be at the very LEAST two years ago, probably more” “I’ve been busy” he said. “Well I’m not the same person anymore and dating is nowhere on my radar right now” I answered. Of course, he wanted to know just what exactly had changed so much. I wanted to hang up but I found the whole situation so ridiculous that I couldn’t stop laughing. In a former lifetime I desperately wanted to find my soul mate and like anyone in that position tends to do, I was looking in all the wrong places, so internet dating seemed like a normal option. I was a go-getter, I was fit, had a great career going, felt confident about my power of attraction and wanted to find someone who fit the same description. This guy apparently did which is why I had exchanged emails with him and then given him my number. “Were you happy though?” he asked. “I guess not considering what I’ve been through since then”. We ended up chatting for a bit with me mostly telling him all the ways in which I was now a changed person “haven’t shaved in two years, fitness days just a memory now that I have a potbelly, and oh yeah, I’ve been clinically depressed for two years”. In other words, I made sure to say all the things things a gal shouldn’t say when she’s trying to make herself seem like a good catch. It felt good. Too good. And yet there he was still serving up the kind of talk I’ve heard from what must have been hundreds of men. I had that old feeling of being the cat playing with the mouse again. We were on the phone a while and I kept hesitating between hanging up and saying yet another outrageous thing. Finally another call came in for him “I’ll call you back, I’ll call you soon” he said. He was probably lying and if he wasn’t what for? So he could keep talking to the freak up in Montreal? “He’s got plenty enough to tell his bar buddies as it is” I decided. “Please don’t. Don’t call me again. Take care.” I don’t plan on shaving my legs anytime soon. And no dumbass, it’s got nothing to do with feminism.