A Sweet and Simple Beginning


Half way through the second bottle of wine, with our hair down, shoes off, and blouses pulled out of our skirts, Cindy pulled out her laptop. “I think we should go on-line and build you a profile on Mr. Perfect.” “What the hell is Mr. Perfect?” I laughed. “No such thing!” “Ted would disagree with you.” Cindy took another drink of wine and tapped away on the computer. “Is that the website that you and Ted met on? What did he look under, Ms. Perfect?” “Look at me, of course he did!” Cindy was laughing so hard she could hardly type. “Well, you have a point there. You are pretty awesome.” “Here we go. Sign up for an account. Let’s build your profile just for kicks and giggles and see what happens. You don’t have to answer anyone if you don’t want to.” I had just enough wine in me to say, “Oh hell, why not?” Cindy started typing: User ID:  Delta Dawn “Wasn’t that your old CB name when you were driving truck?” “Yes” “Password?” “How about DD50?” I could remember that—Delta Dawn and my age.

“I’ll add that photo you showed me the other day. The one taken at your place, where you are wearing that pretty blue blouse and you’re holding a glass of wine.” “Okay, that’s a pretty good photo, I guess.” I stood there while Cindy filled out the questionnaire. She knew a lot about me since we chatted every day at work over lunch.  “Let’s see if I got this all right. Interests, I listed, hiking, shooting, hunting, fishing, and riding my Harley or any outdoor activity. Want to add anything?” “Nope, I think that just about sums me up.” Cindy hit the accept button and I watched as my personal information went into cyberspace. Was there really a Mr. Perfect out there for me? I doubted it, but Cindy was sure there was. “I need to eat something. I have had way too much wine. You hungry?” I finished the last drop of wine in my glass. “Not really, but I probably should eat something, too.” Cindy pulled some cheese from the double door refrigerator and some crackers from one of the pantries. She poured us some more wine. We sat there nibbling at the cheese and crackers and drinking more wine when her laptop chimed. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Cindy pulled the laptop over, sitting it between us. “Hey, you have a hit!” “Really?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Check this out. He looks like Grizzly Adams!” There before me was a profile of a man probably in his late fifties with a photo of himself standing in front of some trees. “He does look like Grizzly Adams, but not as handsome.” Cindy tapped away on the computer. “He’s from Georgia. Ooh, a Southern Grizzly Adams.” “There are no Grizzlies in Georgia.”   “Never mind,” Cindy announced. “He’s married and looking for someone to join him and his wife.” “See, I told you; creeps! Can you undo my profile?” I poured more wine. “Oh, don’t give up so easy. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.” She tapped some more keys. “More like my Princes always turn out to be scum bags.”   “Ah, here’s another profile.”   I was standing behind Cindy, looking over her shoulder. “He looks too young. He must be sixteen! I don’t want jail bait!” “Profile says he’s twenty five. That might be fun to play with!” “I don’t think so.” I was just about to sit back down when another hit on my profile came into view.  The photo came into focus and I just stood there, unable to comment. Looking back at us from the laptop was a green eyed man, dressed in what I would consider bird hunting attire, brown pants and brown hunting jacket. In front of him sat a black Labrador retriever. The man was holding an over and under shotgun. There was something lying on the ground in front of the Lab, but the photo was cut off.  “Read the profile!” Cindy started reading aloud, “Fifty-four years old, six foot four. Divorced, grown children, one granddaughter. Lives in Montana. He’s a gunsmith. Likes shooting, hunting, hiking, fishing, camping, and most anything outdoors. He loves his wilderness cabin. His name is Michael Conrad.” “Gee, he’s handsome. But Montana? That’s across the country.” “So what? Will it hurt to ping him back? It’s not like he’s going to show up on your doorstep.” Without another word, Cindy pinged his profile back. “Maybe he will answer you.” Just as I was about to answer her, the backdoor opened. We both jumped and started laughing. Ted walked into the kitchen shaking his head. “What are you two up to?” “I got Dawn on Mr. Perfect and we thought you were her new contact showing up. Not really, he’s in Montana.”   Ted set his briefcase down, hugged and kissed Cindy, and gave me a friendly hug. “How much wine have you two had?” “Oh, probably too much. Maybe you should put us to bed,” Cindy giggled.

The computer pinged again. It was Montana. We all read the text. “Delta Dawn, you have time to chat?” “Answer him!” Cindy giggled. “I don’t know what to say. I’m ready for bed.” I really was ready for bed with too much wine under my belt. “Just say you were about to get off the computer for the night. Maybe you can chat tomorrow night.”   I took over the keyboard and typed just that. Within a couple of seconds, the reply came. “How about eight tomorrow night, your time?” Laughing, I typed back, “Sure, I’ll look for you, good night.” I shut the computer before he could reply.


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