<\/p>\n

Your most fundamental drives are stitched into the fabric of your neural circuitry, and they are inaccessible to you. You find certain things more attractive than others, and you don\u2019t know why.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2013 David Eagleman, Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At least the African was an excuse to get out of the house, like a trip to Staples for a bargain box of correction tape. According to my online profile, I was an \u201covereducated intellectual elitist looking for like minds. My career has been dominated by professional writing and college-level teaching, so I’m wowed by wit. I’m an NPR-listening, New-Yorker-reading, tree-hugging, artsy, peace-loving, left-leaning tall drink of water.\u201d According to his profile, he was a South African, as tall, fair, and chiseled as a Norse god. Based on his profile picture and the paucity of text, I\u2019d typecast him as a \u201cbody surfer.\u201d Body surfers posted pictures of themselves naked from the waist up. They pursued sports like volleyball, which were just excuses to take off their shirts in front of women upon whose bodies they hoped to beach themselves. Already he bored me.<\/p>\n

In the few exchanges leading to our first date, the African wrote me little, phoned me infrequently, and when he did, wouldn\u2019t make his Afrikaans accent intelligible. Worst of all, he called himself, \u201cAlby.\u201d His screen name was \u201cAlbyBack.\u201d I couldn\u2019t imagine spending the rest of my life saying \u201cAlby.\u201d<\/p>\n

The African invited me to meet him in the dog-friendly coastal town of Dunedin. I\u2019d order a smoothie for dinner, dazzle myself with my own chatter, and ditch him. Then my old Border Collie Casey and I would stroll alone to the pier. Tourists would stoop to pet her, children would throw sticks for her on the playground, and I\u2019d hitch my gaze to the ospreys over the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe, as crowds gathered to watch the sunset over the water, I\u2019d even see a night heron slouch in the shadows, shining menace out of its ruby eyes.<\/p>\n

I buckled Casey into her seatbelt, and off we went. Ordinarily, when I ran late I\u2019d fling myself into the car and hurtle into a white-knuckle slalom on Interstate 19, perversely aware that Dateline NBC named this road one of the deadliest in the country, probably because New Jersey drivers like me were on it. I usually hated myself for running late, and I did it all the time. This time, though, I refused to castigate myself. The African wasn\u2019t worth it. I found a parking spot in the shade beside a white picket fence and a blooming oleander hedge, cracked the windows to the sixty-degree air and the fragrance of crepe jasmine, unbuckled Casey\u2019s seatbelt to make her comfortable, then walked the three blocks to the coffee shop. In the shade of live oaks, the sidewalks ran level along small and briskly edged lawns and a row of closely spaced bungalow-style houses, all painted from a tropical palette and converted to tourist shops and bistros. When I arrived at the coffee shop, I was ten minutes late. Give or take.<\/p>\n

As I approached, I remembered the seating was out in the back yard under live oaks and a wisteria arbor. Casey could join us, and for a moment I regretted not bringing her. No, this was better, I told myself. She\u2019ll give me an excuse to leave early. I walked up the front porch and into the shop, which sold coffee drinks, smoothies, cookies, scones, and brownies, as well as crystals, Tarot cards, angel figurines, and bumper stickers that said, \u201cIn Goddess We Trust\u201d and \u201cMy Other Car is a Broom.\u201d My gaze bounced from one face to the other, but none resembled the grainy JPEG of the angular half-naked South African wake-boarder with the six-pack abs and the light brown hair.<\/p>\n

An attractive, middle-aged brunette in a flowing purple skirt jingled around the counter. \u201cCan I help you find someone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m supposed to meet a tall, handsome man with an accent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he just left!\u201d She skipped past me and dashed out the door. A moment later, the bell on the door tinkled, and she blew back in, her glossy black curls rolling around her head. \u201cI can\u2019t believe it! He vanished!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cListen,\u201d I said, waving it off. \u201cWe were supposed to meet at five-thirty. If he can\u2019t wait ten minutes, I don\u2019t want him.\u201d<\/p>\n

She leaned in conspiratorially and concealed her mouth with the back of her hand. \u201cEverybody here\u2019s meeting someone they met on the Internet. The fumes of desperation get pretty rank.\u201d She gestured toward the couples dining outside, her bell sleeve fluttering. \u201cIt\u2019s a constant sewage stream of blind dates.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m starting to think all first dates are blind. But who are we kidding? So are first marriages.\u201d<\/p>\n

We fell on each other, hugging with laughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve hardly dated anyone since I got divorced,\u201d she gasped, patting my back. We pulled apart, recovering from our sudden intimacy. \u201cI run this business the way I want. I decide what to sell, what to serve. At home I decide what to eat, when to sleep\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhether or not to close the bathroom door.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, right? I love living alone!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen my daughter went off to college,\u201d I said, \u201cI thought the loneliness would kill me. But I gotta say, I\u2019m enjoying the freedom.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m with people all day here.\u201d She squeezed my upper arm, and her blue eyes sparkled with affection. \u201cI see my girlfriends the rest of the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need a man\u2014I needed more girlfriends like her. But it sounded like she didn\u2019t need me, and it didn\u2019t matter anyway. \u201cThis is my last first date for a while. The fact that he didn\u2019t even stick around to meet me is perfect<\/em>.\u201d I shrugged. \u201cThe holidays are coming, I\u2019ve got plans with friends, and my daughter\u2019ll be home for winter break. We\u2019re moving to California next summer anyway. I shouldn\u2019t be dating at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

She flapped her hand as if clearing cobwebs. \u201cWomen come in here so obviously needy. I never understand why they think they have to have a man.\u201d<\/p>\n

How I\u2019d love her for a best friend! But how weak of me! How unseemly! I\u2019d make ties in California. Better to cut this conversation short. \u201cWhat I really want out of this evening,\u201d I said coolly, \u201cmore than anything in the world, is to get one of your strawberry-banana shakes and take my dog for a walk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s gorgeous out, isn\u2019t it?\u201d She swirled toward the counter and left me smothered in patchouli. As she put the icy cup in my hand, the bell on the door behind me tinkled. She lit up. \u201cAlby!\u201d<\/p>\n

A very tall, very lean man returned my surprised look. Then he burst into laughter. \u201cLisa?\u201d<\/p>\n

My new pal beamed at us. \u201cYou know each other?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the tall, handsome man I\u2019m supposed to meet!\u201d<\/p>\n

She said, \u201cNo, it isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

He chuckled again, a little too joyfully. \u201cEyore roux heim sausage meat.\u201d His shoulders were wide, and his soft navy blue tee shirt fell straight down from his broad chest to cover what must surely have been a very hard, very flat stomach.<\/p>\n

I looked away. \u201cIt\u2019s a good thing our proprietress is so much fun to talk to or I wouldn\u2019t still be here,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Calm, cocksure, and rolling his \u201cr,\u201d he said, \u201cActually, I\u2019m early.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not the guy.\u201d The shopkeeper flew past us, opened the door, and looked left and right. \u201cI swear, he was here right before you came in.\u201d She fluttered back, her gauzy purple clothes floating, her silver jewelry tinkling, her cheeks pink, the whites of her eyes flashing, her teeth gleaming, and her full lips parting\u2014I hadn\u2019t noticed before, but she was gorgeous, in the full bloom of sexual health, a gleaming little pigeon of a woman. She stood close enough to Alby to brush his arm with her dainty shoulder and bestow on me a concerned look. \u201cYou must\u2019ve passed your date on the sidewalk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alby stopped laughing. \u201cEau met a date year before me?\u201d<\/p>\n

I said, \u201cThere can\u2019t be two tall handsome guys with accents in Dunedin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flanked by us women, Alby laughed like the happiest hunk on the planet.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Editorial note<\/em>:<\/strong>\u00a0We hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Lisa Lanser Rose’s memoir in progress. Please check back again for future installments!\u00a0<\/p>\n

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