Willamette week and portland and dating

It wouldn’t have taken us even eight months to get married if there hadn’t been a several week communication hitch after I wrote my first letter to Laurel.

The two and a half page single-spaced description of my marvelous qualities (I could have gone on for quite a bit longer, but wanted to project at least a veneer of humility) piqued Laurel’s interest. ” “That’s all right; I’ll call back.” Experienced in the perils and pitfalls of dating, Laurel thought that Celeste might be my wife.

She phoned the home number I had given her and my daughter, Celeste, answered. She had skipped over a line at the bottom of page 2: “I have a 17 year-old daughter who is living with me.” Laurel kept on calling. And I kept on getting frustrated when I’d come home and hear my daughter say, “That woman called again but she wouldn’t leave a message.” Thankfully, we finally connected. Tonight we’re planning to go out for a vegetarian dinner at our favorite place to eat, the Marco Polo Global Restaurant.

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These bright beauties will become your go-to earrings for day and night.

But in the “no strings attached” category, there was just 1 woman wanting a man, but 13 men wanting a woman (apparently no-stringers “want,” while personals “seek”).

For fifteen years I’ve been happy to be strung to Laurel. Her ad said that she “seeks a mate to share the mysteries and pleasures of life.” She found one.

Looking over them just now I notice that a few things have changed since Laurel and I met.

The quick menu options are divided into “personals” and “no strings attached.” A count of several categories revealed that the “personals” are evenly divided between the number of women seeking men (51) and men seeking women (47).

aware, fit, well-educated, independent, successful, attractive, blonde, long-haired SWF as I was thumbing through a Willamette Week copy that I had picked up at the state Capitol. By the way, karmically speaking it was interesting that a personals ad in a Portland publication brought together a Salem man and a woman who lived fairly close, outside of Silverton.

This enticing and absolutely accurate description got me to write a letter to Box 601 that evening. Even more (play Twilight Zone music in your head now), we both were Isuzu Trooper owners!

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