Do we really want a man?

So what is it that we are looking for? Do we want something as simple as Mikki says, a guy to hold our hand and watch the sun set? Someone to "be there" for us, whatever that means? Do we still wait for the prince on the white horse to awaken us and carry us to the castle? After years of bad marriages and desperate hours with strange men on bad dates and too many broken hearts, do we really want a man?

Sometimes, like on Mondays after work, I'd settle for a guy who would push my three big trash cans out to the curb. I gave up, around 1968, the idea that a man should save me from the wild spider in the house after my first husband said, "If you scream like that again, I'm never help you." And thus began my learning to do everything myself. For myself. My needs are simple. Sometimes I feel like changing my online profile to read, "independent and smart woman seeks hairy guy to spoon with at night."

After 14 months of not dating, I found someone I'd actually like to meet. He's smart, funny, caring, and rather adorable. On paper and on the phone. My friend Susan says, after reading some of his writings online, that he's a clone of me. My sometimes cynical and always lovely daughter says he's cute and witty - and probably 400 pounds. And I've agreed to meet him.

So where does one do this first meeting?!? I don't do caffeine, regular or decaf, so Starbucks and its cute tables are out. How about a picnic at the park? No, Bev says we have to go to a nice restaurant, be served, and see how he treats the waiter. A museum, so even if he is rendered speechless by my beauty or just a dolt in public, I can still see lovely artwork? Do I do what Woody Allen did on his first date with Annie Hall on their way to a club when he just stopped walking and kissed her to avoid the eventual awkward moment at the car or at the front door in the light with the bugs flying around? How about I do a Samantha from Sex and the City and just meet him at a local Days Inn and have sex first to make sure that his parts are in working order and that he knows what to do with them? Then, what the heck do I wear? I'm not even gonna start in on that one.

Clearly, it's a dilemma. Is it worth it, this anguish over a date? Maybe so. He might be that hairy guy who likes to spoon. I guess I'll never know unless I meet him.