Pof Girls

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Last week, a woman messaged me on the otherwise uninspiring Plenty Of Fish dating site (affectionately known as POF herein). There were a few things about her profile that stood out in relation to my objectives for #thewifehunt.

I have mentioned, in a post on what ‘Wife Potential’ means to me, a few traits that would be essential to The Wife:

…any Wife Potentials (WPs) will be comfortable with their sexuality, emotionally available, emotionally intelligent, attractive, and kind. These are the things that are important to me.

She’s gay and out. Unlike many previous Women Who Aren’t Gay.

She highlighted things that she values: kindness, being comfortable in one’s own skin, silliness and childishness.

She is looking for a relationship, and would like children one day. Same page.

She has light eyes and dark hair. This is a combination that destroys me. Her photos didn’t particularly bowl me over, but neither did they do the opposite.

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Additionally, I have a – no doubt partially rooted in my ethnic minority family background – thing for medics. In large part it is also down to my own interest in medicine, and growing up around medics. It feels familiar I guess. Anyway, she’s a medic.
N.B. Check the nod to this in the photo of choice for this post. Giving myself a high five.

We exchanged a few messages in which I found out she has a lot of similar interests. I suggested a drink, we planned it for the next day.

Of World Bank

First Date

As I ranted on my Twitter feed, I realised that I had left my make up bag at home when I reached work on the day of our date. I was meeting her straight after work and there was no time to retrieve it. Generally, I don’t wear a lot of make up. I don’t usually wear it during the day at work. I’m all about using a little, enough to make it look like you are naturally flawless. That old chestnut.

The feminist in me rallied. I told myself that I’m a confident, mature, woman who doesn’t need make up to feel beautiful. POF girl has to like me for me, flaws and all, if she’s to be my wife anyway.

I then proceeded to ask every woman in the office to search their bags for make up to lend me.

Unfortunately, I am the only ethnic minority in my team. “Ivory” foundation wasn’t helping my situation. I managed to grab some eye liner, but my eyes zoomed in on every blemish on my face that I wasn’t going to be able to cover.

When nothing more could be done, I carried myself off to the date.

She looked way, way, better in real life. I cursed my lack of make up and slightly greasy hair. I tried to calm myself by thinking of how the shambles of my appearance could be “a funny/charming/adorable story for the grandkids” if this worked out.

Then I told myself to focus on the present and what she was saying 2 minutes into the first date, rather than on future grandchildren.

I just threw myself in and tried to get to know her and tell her about myself. We laughed all night. She’s adorable. Beautiful, startlingly kind.

I had a great time.

And then?

There was a bit of anguishing and nervous energy over follow up messages…. but messages have happened and we have lots of silly little things in common (books we are reading at the moment, plays we have tickets to see, and we’re both going hiking this month). I asked her out on a second date and she said yes. It’s tonight. I am finishing this sentence and then going off to get ready for it. But I wanted to get my thoughts down now, unaffected by the second date. If she’s the one, I want to remember these first feelings.

Here goes. Wish me luck.

P Of World