The Trumpeter in the Woods
Chapter Five (part one)

The New Age Arrives

The late-Nineties passed with my full attention on making money and friends. Nothing wrong with that at all. I was back in la-la land. I fell in with a group of friends whose only aspiration in life was to find a man. And to dance. We danced at clubs and we danced at aerobics class. They were mostly divorced or widowed women and they convinced me that without a man, my life was empty and worthless. So I searched. Match.com and Matchmaker.com became my new religions. But I don’t want this book to be about my search for a man; we’ll skip over this tedious and ever-so-disappointing part of my life. It’s uninteresting, just like the men I met during this time. Maybe it was me, not them. I was changing and not aware of it yet. There was one man that bears mentioning who brilliantly represented the kind of man I was meeting back then. We met on Matchmaker.com where, of course, my personal profile said that my perfect match must love animals. I had a couple of dates with a guy who claimed to also love animals and he liked to dance. I was hopeful.

“David, do you have any pets?” I inquired of him on our second date.

“Not now,” he replied, “but when my sons were younger, we went to the pound and adopted two dogs.”

“Aw, that’s so nice that you rescued them!” This guy showed real promise, I thought. “What happened to them?” I asked, expecting to hear a sad story of how the dogs had died and that his sons were still grieving.

Instead, David matter-of-factly said, “When the boys got older and lost interest in the dogs, I took them back to the pound.” I stared at him with disbelief, briefly unable to respond.

“Well we had fun with them for a few years,” he continued unemotionally.

Can you guess? There was no next date. See ya!

No man would be able to fulfill what my soul was looking for and would unfold for me in the coming few years. So maybe that’s when God decided it was time to wake me up. Say good-bye to la-la land! I soon stopped dancing once more.

Content and title copyright Christine Palm Shaughness. No reproduction allowed.

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