I grew up with a normal childhood, or at least as normal as one could expect for a child of divorce living in Southern California. I have no complaints, I don't see a shrink and never have, and I am not one to blame all of my life's problems on my upbringing. Frankly, I have always thought that is a load of crap.

I knew I was not a planned child for my parents. They were 18 and 19 at the time, and I'm no idiot, so as I got older and learned more about their relationship before and after me, I promised myself that I would never end up in that situation. I would never get a girl pregnant outside of wedlock. I would never get married because I got a girl pregnant. I would make sure I was fully grown up and on the right track before I even thought of having kids.

I'm not very good at keeping promises, especially to myself.

So after my ex-wife and I split for good, and I lost my job a few days later (a whole other disaster... no, I do not want to talk about it), one of my best friends offered me a place to stay in Phoenix, Arizona. He said, "You should come out here. Come stay at my place. Start over and get your life back on track."

So I did.

The first few months were awful. I drank heavily, only worked a few temporary jobs when I was sober enough to show up, and was basically a miserable bastard to everyone, including my friend's fiancée (don't think I am a total jerk. I did apologize... eventually). But after a bit of time, a long drunken walk across Phoenix that scared the hell out of my friends, and few long conversations with my good friend and now trusted advisor, I decided it was time to move on. It was time to get out there. It was time to use that charm that worked so well with the ladies about 4 years (!) ago. My trusted advisor suggested that I get on the internet, check out this dating website he had been on before he met his fiancée (who by now still thought I was a real bastard), and meet some girls.

So I did.

I managed to hunt down a few digital pictures he had of us from a few years ago and got down to work creating my profile. I found that I had always been better at communicating in written form, and I love making jokes, so I really enjoyed this part. I talked a little about myself. My good friend and trusted advisor suggested I leave out the part about still being legally married (apparently that is a bit of a turn-off), but I did throw in some humor here and there to spice things up. Under religion I put, "I believe in God and I believe that He has a sense of humor... look at the platypus." Under favorite quote I put, "If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you." Good stuff, right? Of course.

So after a few revisions, removal of a few lines that was categorize me as bitter, and a hunt for few more photos, I published my profile and waited.

And waited...

Then one day, I got a message from someone. I was stoked! This was great! My naïve nature convinced that out of all the guys she could have sent a message too, she picked me, and nothing bad could possibly happen from this. So I took a quick glimpse at her profile: blonde, "about average" body type listed, short hair (I don't mind that), and a good smile. Perfect, right?

So I sent her a message and we decided to meet at a restaurant. My trusted advisor told me the best place to meet someone was a restaurant: they are not too loud like a club, they are a neutral location to meet at, and they always serve liquor, which would go a long way towards calming my nerves. I got a haircut, showered, shaved, and put on a nice shirt with a pair of slacks. This was going to be great.

I arrived at the restaurant about two minutes early. Actually, it was about 15 minutes early, but I sat in the parking lot for a while so I wouldn't look desperate. So much for honesty. I found a table, took a seat facing the front door, and waited for my date to arrive.

Then I saw her... well, the part that I recognized anyways: the smile and the hair. Then I looked down. Oh, good lord. She was about 5 foot four and easily 200 pounds. What the hell happened to "about average"? Where is this considered "about average"? Nebraska?! I was flabbergasted!

Not one who is very good at confrontation, and certainly not someone who enjoys hurting people's feelings, I introduced myself and sat down with her. The waitress came by and asked if we wanted drinks.

Absolutely.

So we chatted for a bit. Now I am not a completely shallow person. Not completely. But like any other human being on this planet, whether they will admit it or not, I believe that there has to be physical attraction as a basis for a relationship. A few drinks later, physical attraction still was not even beginning to enter the equation, but the waitress was looking pretty cute and I could have sworn she winked at me a few times (okay, maybe I made that up in my own mind). Plus I was a little pissed off: by calling herself "about average", this girl shamelessly lied to me. That or she was out of her mind and really believed it. Maybe she didn't own a mirror.

In any case, I ended the date rather early, making a lame excuse about having been up early or having to wake up early the next morning. She seemed very interested in me. Well dressed, well mannered, and not willing to put out - she probably thought I was gay.

At the time, I certainly hoped so.

So I went home. I decided that I was not going to let this experience deter me from trying some more. I learned two valuable lessons: "about average" has a different meaning for everyone and I should always... ALWAYS make sure to get a full-body photo.