A British Girl in America -Part ek

Of every single thing that I have learned (the hard way!) about dating, love and relationships the thing men and women want to know most of all is: how, and when will I meet the love of my life? And the answer is, like all the best things in life, elusively clear: you will meet them absolutely anywhere and anyhow but you better be ready and alert when they come around so you can pick them out of the crowd.
And here I’m gonna let you into a little secret: the chances of meeting the one for you is controlled by a number of factors –luck, timing, sheer chance, wonderful fate (all the usual suspects). But the absolute biggest factor in determining when and how soon you will meet the One is also the most underrated and underutilized. Your intention and how many chances you create for yourself. It truly is as simple and complex as that.
I think that the best way to convince people of something is simply to tell the truth (I know –it’s a rather baffling conviction) and the only truth I really know is my own. So let’s step back in time to 2005 my single, searching friends….
I was a regular kind of girl: I liked to melt my chocolate biscuits (not cookies) in the microwave so they became hot and gooey, I would pop corn and watch movies that need not be named, I loved my friends and was learning to like my parents, and I posted on Craigslist incessantly and oftentimes went out with fellow listers -much to their, and my, eventual disappointments.
My most successful Craigslisting (ironically the very first one of more than I care to mention) rewarded me with a platonic friendship that was much better than good and that, I figured was a far better shot than average and I should be content.
That friendship began with the occasional email, until my friend’s work relocated him to London and since I was the only person there he knew we started hanging out. Since I had a goal of meeting my soul mate, and a soft spot for Americans, N was my way into all my well researched ‘Americans In London’ meet-ups, which he diligently, if not 100% willingly, attended with me because that’s the kind of friend he is.
For one year I set myself date targets (one a week at the least). In case there was any doubt, I sent out a mass e-mail to every person who I thought might know someone suitable detailing the kind of guy I was looking for (the kind of guy that made an international search more than worthwhile). In the meantime, N who became the best ‘post date requisite analysis’ listener ever, (he brought the food and patience, I brought the horror stories and humor) told me time and time again that he, regrettably, had no friends who were right for me …or so he thought…

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