AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW

I feel like I may have reached the end of the JDate rainbow. Only instead of a pot of gold, there’s one of those recycling bins, a receptacle for all the guys I ever went on one or two doomed dates with.

Some of them remember me, but more often, I remember them first, and more clearly. And they take this to mean that I liked them. But more often than not, the impression, while deeply etched, was not necessarily a positive one.

Seeing them is always awkward, especially when I apparently didn’t make enough of an impression for them to acknowledge remembering me. It also hurts more than a little that I’m still out here, canvassing the scene, looking for Him, so divine and elusive an ideal that I might as well capitalize it.

Him. He, whoever He is, is somewhere. He’s probably up, like me, on JDate and watching Ghostbusters on TNT at 2:30 in the morning. He’ll probably be at tomorrow’s Salute to Israel Parade on Fifth Avenue. He’s probably started his own blog, to record and analyze his experiences, so he might learn.

But whoever He is, He’ll make an impression on me. And I’ll make one back. And it will be positive.

And maybe then, at the other end of the JDate rainbow, there’ll be a pot of dating gold.