Being made mostly of sadness and despair, I was going to delete my dating profile not too long ago and live a life of monk-like solitude when a message came through the ether as I slept one night. And, while most messages are from foreign women that want you to subscribe to their pornographic websites, this response seemed to be from a real enough person.
Even though I was mildly suspicious—and I probably always will be—I proceeded anyway to contact her anyway, talking for a few days on the phone as a slight precaution; things went well enough, so much so that we decided to try our hand at going out on a date, meeting for dinner at Oso Paseo, 603 NW 28th St., over in, of course, the Paseo.