I have that thing that I do when I get excited about something and it’s to not think too much of the consequences. Los Angeles, 10000 kilometers away from my family? Oh yes, sure! A coffee after dinner? So good! A dog, when I spend most my time traveling? That’s right!
With dating, it’s even worse.
I take impossibilities as signs that things where meant to be.
This all-American guy, hailing from the South, bit rough around the edges? Interesting! What about this one, a full head shorter than me? Now that makes it different. Oh, this guy is fourteen years older than me? Probably exactly what I needed.
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I often tell this half-funny, half-offensive joke about how I met Graham.
I was on this fancy dating app, pretty much convinced I’d never meet anybody remotely good, when suddenly this elegant-looking British-type mature-sexy strong-gentle guy pops up between the four hundred middle-aged tattooed art directors I had swiped left on.
WTF? I thought, attracted and surprised.
Why am I attracted? Wh…