Let's Hope This Goes Better Than It Did for Demi Moore

A few weeks before I moved south, I changed my residence status on eHarmony from Philly to Atlanta. It didn't make much sense to target a meat market I was departing. And to those of you itching to point out my past relationship with a man based in Alaska, I say, Suck it.

My inbox started to fill up with boys from Macon to Memphis. One by one, I worked my way through the potential suitors. Some were totally not my type. Others tickled my fancy.

"I just got matched with a twenty-five-year-old and he wants to communicate," I said to Leslie as we sprawled out on her bed, Olivia and Anders both on the floor with their eyes glued to the television.

"Let me see," she said as she tilted my laptop in her direction. "Oh, wow, he even looks twenty-five."

I have dated down. After college, I tangled myself up with an eighteen-year-old. He acted older than his actual age, the likely result of a rumored side-gig as a drug dealer. Don't ask. In recent years, I've dated up. Alaska had ten years on me. Ex was eight years older. Having realized in the last few months that the best results come from just letting things unfold, I set aside hesitation and agreed to open communication.

Truth be told, the more I got to know him, the more interested I became. So, when he suggested we meet this past Saturday at 5pm, I accepted. I blew my hair straight, applied mascara, and set off for the designated meeting spot.

He was there when I arrived, beating me by five minutes to ensure he was present when I showed. Most men I know won't even hold the door for me. Then he insisted I order my coffee first and proceeded to casually block my access to the register. I once had a date say he'd pay for my wine and then rescind the offer when he saw my one glass cost $18. Anyway, with our drinks in hand, we headed outside to find a table on the patio. We sat down and started talking. An hour and a half later, we were still at it.

"So, how did it go?" Leslie asked when I got home.

"Really well! I mean this guy has more ambition than most men my own age. Like, his five-year plan includes getting an MBA and completing the Kona IronMan. Seriously, I've watched that race while horizontal on my sofa as I stuffed bonbons in my face. That goal alone makes him a pimp."

"Yeah, no, that's impressive."

Sunday night he rang to say hello and see how the rest of my weekend had turned out. In the midst of the conversation, he made me laugh more than a few times. Suddenly I stopped defining him by his age and instead focused on the whole of him. In the midst of it, I was simply having a really nice time. So it should come as no surprise that I accepted his invitation to have a second date Wednesday night.