Glacial Erotics

Frinight I went out for beers with my friend Eliz(abeth). As we were chatting and catching up on the past couple of weeks, she inquired about my current "situation." As in, "What's it like being single out there?"

In response to her inquiry, the following exact words came out of my mouth: "I dropped my Match.com subscription when I decided I wasn't going to meet someone in Madison who wants to see my fossil collection."*

Elizabeth expressed sympathy, but we didn't linger on the topic, choosing instead to spend the next 30 minutes impersonating someone who shall remain nameless and who laughs like "the queen's owl with a broken hooter." God, that was funny.

Anyhow, I got home a little after 11 and had just settled into bed when my iPhone chirped. Not the usual incoming text message, whose sound I instantly recognize and to which I immediately react. Turns out Match.com keeps you around for a little while post-cancellation. I'd received an iPhone push notification email from... wait for it... AN INVERTEBRATE PALEONTOLOGIST. Shut. Up.

He had noticed that my profile included a photo of my foot tattoo...

Yes, that hurt. And it was worth it.

... and he wrote that if he were to get a tattoo, it'd probably be of a trilobite. You know, the WISCONSIN STATE FOSSIL. Of which I have numerous examples. We exchanged a couple quick, chatty emails and decided to meet for coffee the next day.

I arrived in the agreed-upon neighborhood 20 minutes early early because (for some reason, even though I own an Answer Box) I thought there was a hardware store nearby and I needed a doorstop and bungee cords. But I digress.

The friendly barista provided me with a large apple cinnamon tea and I found a seat in a comfortable velvet armchair in front of a crackling fire. Within just a couple minutes, in walked a guy I recognized from his profile picture as Charles.** He smiled, approached, introduced himself, and set down his jacket beside me before ordering a coffee.

We settled into an easy conversation about our mutual interest in geology and the fossil record. Charles actually participated in a field trip with one of my college professors. Madison is a small town. Geology is a small industry. Blamo! Everyone knows someone.

Eventually the conversation turned toward our families, other shared hobbies (like food), and his friends' upcoming mead party. As in, medieval wine made from honey. He suggested wearing a suit of armor. I suggested making sure nobody else was dressing up. Funnier that way.

Jump forward to two-and-a-half hours later, Charles and I decided to wrap things up. It was too late for my afternoon nap, and he still had work to do. We stepped outside and he gave me a quick hug, and...

...TING! The flap of a butterfly's wings somewhere inside my stomach. Stay tuned. I hope that wasn't the end of this story.

*That's not code for anything, Chewie you sicko. My dad reads this blog. (I hope.)
**Not even close to his real name; named after Mr. Darwin.