SINGLES STATION

I found it in the phone book. 
So simple.  I made the call.
'Singles Station. May I help you?'
I heard, 'Single Station. Are you desperate?'
I may have been just a tiny bit paranoid
about this new venture?
I can't imagine why I would be.
It couldn't have anything to do with the
Hayride and the Coffee Club!
I waited and was connected with 'Mike.'
His job was to meet me and find the
perfect match for this girl.
'When could I come in?' he wanted to know.
I told him I was in my car, just needed to know
directions to this miracle place.
Okay.  Slight exaggeration.
However, I did go there that same day.

When all was said and done
my picture was on my profile card
with my life's story and my credit report.
Did I mention that I had to list
my children as collateral in addition
to my personal check?
I went home to await 'the call.'
I waited.
Still waiting.  . .
The call came.  I wasn't home.
I eagerly listened to my voice mail, and
fell in love with the voice on the other end.




He was sorry he had missed me, and 'if I didn't mind,
would I just give him a call back?'
Would I? 
I checked my makeup first.
What am I doing?  He can't see me!

We talked.  And talked.
We broke all the rules of this dating club we
both belonged to, 'make first call brief, no details
about our lives.'
Then, he said he wanted to meet me if I would like that.
I would.
Where would I like to go?  Out to dinner?
 Did I have a suggestion of where we might go?

I didn't.  Anywhere he said was fine with me.
We met that Saturday at Metro Diner, November 21, 1998.

When I first stepped inside and saw this guy. . .