The new year always brings on the optimism of second chances. I ponder new goals, do mental evaluations of various and sundry aspects of my life, and ruminate on new ideas of every type about how I want my life to be. For the first time ever, I’ve decided that high on the ‘achieve’ list is to decide once and for all if I should make some attempt to find that special someone.

Now, I must admit that since moving to NC that effort has been fairly low on my priority list only because I’m discouraged by the local selection. OK. It hasn’t been on the priority list at all. I just made that up. You get the point though, yeah? It’s just not been that important. Besides, I’m really good at doing life as a solo adventurer. I have great friends and fantastic family. More often than not I’m fine being mate-free. It gives me more opprtunity to devote to my own interests–kind of like Grissom in CSI although I’m way less of an introvert.

But now that year 41 is fast approaching I find myself half listening to my NC gal pals fervent sales pitch that I need to ‘get out there’. Where ever ‘out there’ is and whatever that means. In the local venacular, it means bar hopping and booze festing. I’m so over that as a lifestyle–as a every now and again thing, sure. And I don’t look favorably upon those possible mates one finds at the local drinking establishment. Pillars of the community? I think not. But the real piece de resistance, the straw on the proverbial bactrian is when older family members tell me (with a frightening regularity) they have a neighbor, or a friend of a friend, or a friend’s nephew, or their next door neighbors dog’s best friend’s brother’s uncle they want me to meet. Am I being anti-social when I say no thanks? Ungrateful?

Yes, every now again, I do find myself wishing there was someone with whom I could share little tidbits of my life. But I just don’t feel the desparation to be setup by an elderly aunt. That’s a blow to the self-esteem I can’t bear.

Thus, I’ve actually been considering my NC gal pals suggestion of ‘getting out there’. But, where does a fairly erudite person (that would be me) find a like-minded individual containing all the necessary traits I demand? I’m convinced it’s not here in Wilmywood. Frankly, I don’t think he exists anywhere but in my head. But, my NC gal pals call me a snob and to get over myself. They have been bullish, even harpy-like in suggesting I try Match.com or some similar dating service. This is all based on the very scientific data that one of our friends met her husband through Match.

N.B. She’s the ONLY person I know or ever heard of actually meeting a long-term partner with Match.

It seems I’ve reached the inevitable position of rock and a hard place. Boo. I want to know your opinion. The question goes to you, dear reader…should I Match it up or be happy going along following my personal interests with the hope that someday I’ll bump into my dream man in some library in a land far far away? I guess the question behind it all is should I ‘work’ at finding someone or be happy doing nothing knowing that I risk ending up the spinster cat lady in the big creepy house (actually, I would be the spinster hedgehog lady in the big cool house in Derbyshire).

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?