I’m still sticking with my plan of doing something new every week. This week I decided to get back online. That’s right, folks.

I’ll admit, I’m pretty lonely. I spend at least an hour a day sorting through puppy pictures, checking out the photo galleries on the SPCA sites, and searching the ads on Sacbee.com for ‘pug,’ ‘puggle,’ or ‘cavalier king charles.’ I debate in my head whether my dog will sleep with me in my bed or not. But I’m off to Burning Man in about a month for ten days and I can’t get a dog before then.

So to ameloriate the lonelines, I got back online to find a dog. Not a puppy, but a real dog of a man looking for his bitch. Yes, that would be me–a bitch. I swear, if I have to read one more profile about some guy looking for a girl with a heart of gold, I am going to puke. I’ve done the Craigslist thing. I’ve done Match, twice actually. Going online can’t be that bad if I met my ex-boyfriend while cruising the wonderful world of the web.

But it’s all about doing something new so eHarmony it is.

Now, I know eHarmony has gotten into some GLBT trouble lately (i.e., eHarmony = eHomophobia). I do have plenty of gay friends. I love me my gay friends. Maybe you think I should stand up for gay rights and boycott eHarmony. But I say…Fuck that! The rainbow-toting movement has taken plenty of educated, charming, sensitive, attractive men out of my dating pool and I say FUCK YOU!

So back to our regularly-scheduled programming of online dating with eHarmony.

Let’s see, where should I begin.
1. What kind of 90-year-old crinkly geezer allows himself to promote an online dating company that caters to young people?! I don’t care if you patented the 29 compatibility point system. Why are you front and center in these advertisements? You are ugly! I think of myself as pretty cute, but I swear in ten years I’m not going to want my picture taken anymore.
2. Who is running the daily operations of this company authorizing these advertisements? Your marketing team needs to go!
3. Ultimately the joke must be on me because I still paid!!!

eHarmony is pricey. Anything’s pricey compared to cheapie Craigslist, but even pricier than Match–which is definitely a much more popular site. The difference with eHarmony is that they do the matching for you. It’s not a free for all where you can email anyone at will. You have to wait for matches to come through in your inbox. No searching which can get kind of addicting which is good because I really don’t have time to search or do any homework with this thing. Just send them my way so I can get my fancy dinners!

Now I felt a little bit of buyer’s remorse at first because I had no matches. What the fuck? I really felt like this was confirmation that no one in the world was right for me. But the matches slowly start to show up. It’s been about 90 minutes and I have thirty matches now. Overall, it’s a different population of men on eHarmony. They’re older, more educated, more career-oriented. It’s not a complete surprise because a friend compared/contrasted the different sites for me this past weekend and gave me that observation…which I agree with.

I’m not expecting a lot out of doing this, but I have to say, I was laughing out loud with some of these matches and their profiles. “Love is a verb.” The money spent was worth the comedic value. I’ve been giggling all night.

A week ago, the Chronicle came out with a front page story on Jehovah’s Witnesses and their goal of knocking on every door from the Oregon border to Reno to the Central Coast as they come together for a series of conventions throughout the summer.

I figured it was a lofty goal, but perked up when my buzzer rang unexpectedly. Most people would just not answer the door, but I was curious. I really wanted to see what they had to say. Were they going to read verses from the Bible? Were they going to try to convince me to follow them? I went downstairs to our front door and saw two men in suits smiling at me.

“Hi there. Can I help you?”

“Well hello there. Good day. We wanted to extend an invitation to you. Here it is. Hopefully you can make it.”

“Thank you. I’ll take a look.”

“Good day to you.”

The conversation was short and sweet. They simply handed me a flyer and left. Here’s what it says.

FOLLOW THE CHRIST!

How can following the Christ help you to
- improve family life?
- deal with life’s difficult problems?
- draw closer to God?
- oppose the Devil?
- gain everlasting life?

To find answers to these questions and many others, you are cordially invited to attend the “Follow the Christ!” district convention of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Admission free. No collections taken.

—

Wow! Free admission and no collections. I was impressed. What religious gathering doesn’t even take up a collection? I’d never heard of such a thing.

Mainly, I was just curious. My whole life I’ve ignored the doorbell, thinking the door was the only thing that stood between me and a bunch of dingalings. These guys at the door seemed nice, and just doing what they can to spread the good news.

There was one time the doorbell rang and my boyfriend at the time poked his head out of my bedroom window and yelled down, “Hey, quit ringing the doorbell. All the girls who live here are Catholic.”

I rushed into Burning Man headquarters with my keys in my right hand, my Blackberry in my left. I was almost fifteen minutes late for our ARTery meeting. I wasn’t used to driving to work, didn’t anticipate the city traffic. Hence, I underestimated the time it would take me to get from the financial district to Mission Bay right after work.

“Vixen!” They called out as I briskly walked into the conference room.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. I hate being late.”

“Vixen, you look so corporate,” someone verbalized, looking me up and down. I was wearing a grey pin-striped dress suit with a black leather Cole Haan work bag in hand. I admit, I looked completely out of place.

She continued, “Oh, Vixen, you look so much better in a nightie.”

I smiled. This is what I love about Burning Man. Anti-corporate. Anti-mainstream. Anti-religion. Anti-doldrum. Anti-a lot of things I stand for. I love corporate America. I am a devout Catholic. But I also believe in keeping an open mind about things. I don’t begrudge people their own thoughts and views. Believe whatever you want to believe. I don’t want to hang out with people who think like I do.

I don’t necessarily think people at Burning Man are the most open-minded. It’s kind of like San Francisco. To fit in here, you’d better be liberal, a Democrat, environmentally conscious, artsy, a triathlete, spiritual but not religious. But burners are so passionate, so creative, so forward-thinking. I sit in on meetings and laugh out loud, everyone is so funny. But not stupid funny. They’re witty.

The ARTery mantra: Your job is to be the pinnacle of chill.

Words of wisdom from the Fire Safety Manager: We subvert technology for pleasure.
Your death is not a problem. Your death is not our problem. Read the back of your ticket.

By the way, the back of the ticket states “You voluntarily assume the risk of serious injury or death by attending, and release Burning Man from any claim arising from this risk…Your use of this ticket confirms your agreement to these terms.”

More words of wisdom from the Fire Safety Manager: A 25 foot contraption dangling in the air…We’re not really going to investigate that. If someone wants to climb up a 25 foot pole, fall, and die, that’s his problem. Now, if someone climbs into a razor sharp hammock…we probably want to go ahead and take a look at that.

I didn’t get to write about my 4th of July. It was amazing! Picnic, BBQ, scorching sun in the city (I even got sunburned), good company of people. It wouldn’t have been the success it was had it not been for a very special person who got to Crissy Field at 6am to secure two side-by-side picnic tables. That’s right…6AM in the morning. I never wake up that early ever. Not only did she get there at 6am, but they were the last tables left. As a result, I think everyone had a wonderful Independence Day, eating and baking in the sun.

After a long day, I headed back home right before 8pm. I barely had time to sit on my couch when Marc called. “Catchee, what are you doing? Come over!”

“Oh my God, Marc. We really should get married.”

So the two single friends whittled away the rest of the night drinking fabulous wine. The perfect couple. No sparks between them, watching the fireworks.

I ended therapy today. Therapy that I started on Valentine’s Day–five months ago. Something I initiated over a severe broken heart. Week after week after week, with the exception of a few skips because of travel and once for illness, I saw him. I documented what I could in a black journal that he suggested I keep to write down my feelings. I’m mellower, more open-minded, and less exacting on myself. I challenge my perceptions, my protocols, what I would have done as my old self (dismiss, run, boil over with rage) versus the new me (stay put, ride it out, feel). It sounds so stupid. So hokey, but it has helped. I’m a changed person because of the therapy and I think I’m at a good stopping place to work on my own for now.

Ironically, I feel like I’ve regressed. Regressed to more child-like behavior–the way it should be. About the here and now. Building a castle out of a deck of cards right now! I cried once as a kid because the castle had to be built. No bedtime, there was no tomorrow. Now, now, now! I couldn’t help the tears cascading down my cheeks. That mentality was no where to be found these days. All I cared about was the future and if he was the one for me and living a lifetime together. A lifetime? What pressure.

Do you think we could be together forever? Why don’t we plan a vacation? Let’s try living together. I love you. Do you love me?

No longer the wide-eyed child finding amazement in little things, everything, right now. I became dim-eyed only caring about what was ahead.

“Goodbye, Adam. Thank you.” I gave him a big hug, catching him off-guard.

“Oh, hug? Ok.”

I was sad walking away from his office, but hopeful too. One less man, one new life.