Somewhere in this world, there is a woman who wonders tonight where I am. There’s a woman who wants me and needs me and is willing to choose to be my wife. Somewhere tonight, there is this woman who I will want and need just as much as she wants and needs me.
I’m certain of that.
I no longer know her name. I no longer know what she looks like. She presumably doesn’t know I exist and I don’t know she exists. But I know she’s out there — and I know she’s looking for me.
It’s been almost six years since I’ve actively searched for a partner. I’ve gone out with some women over the past few years, but it was halfhearted. I don’t recall going out with any of them for a second time, except for the one who pursued me enough that we dated for an unhappy four months.
This week has been the first time in nearly six years that I’ve resumed an active search for someone new. The only thing I can be sure of is that the woman I met for dinner Wednesday evening wasn’t the right one.

Do great dreams really come true or do they just serve to haunt us?
My love of ‘fur friends’ stems from the callousness I saw in my father
Our reactions to others’ suicides say something about how we view life
Can a free society tolerate intrusions into details of ‘The Lives of Others’?
Humans are most heroic in small moments of caring for each other
Not having someone to hope for differs from pain of missing love
We’re happier if we learn to ‘sell’ ourselves to people who want us
Sex is everywhere in our culture, but we’re starved for intimacy
I’m drawn to tales of brokenness, rescue and ultimate redemption