n our last installment, our writer — a Midwestern single mom — tried to gear up for the hunt for love online, but found herself stymied by what to say…and wondering about a guy she always sees in her neighborhood. Here, what happens next.

Wednesday, 8:20 p.m.
In full defiance of my New Year’s resolution and the 20-degree weather, I am sitting at a table in Speedy Scoop with my daughter, enjoying an ice cream cone—chocolate peanut butter, my favorite.

I glance at the couple sitting next to me and realize immediately that I recognize the man from his online pictures and profile. I distinctly recall thinking that he seemed quirky and creative and

	I glance at the couple sitting next to me and realize immediately that I recognize the man.

possibly a little crazy. Though he said he was an accountant, he looked more like a character actor. In one shot he is staring through a giant magnifying glass, his left eye enlarged and his eyebrow arched like an intrepid sleuth. In another photo his face is hovering over a bright blue globe while he’s pointing to Madagascar. His face is cartoonish, like a grown-up Dennis the Menace. It may also be worth noting that I once saw him in my psychiatrist’s waiting room which made me wonder about his mental stability—until I reminded myself I was sitting in that very same waiting room.

I turn my attention to the woman he’s with. She’s considerably younger than he is—she looks to be in her early 30s while he seems to be in his mid-50s. She’s as tall as he is, so I suppose they’re well matched at least in that way.

But they’re not talking very much. I wonder if they’ve been together long enough to have reached the stage of silent companionability. Or maybe they just started dating and have little to say to each other. Or maybe they got into a fight on the way over to Speedy Scoop, and they’re too mad to talk. Or maybe he’s in one of his moods.

I look at her and think, there but for the grace of I-don’t-know-what go I. That could have been me, sitting in silence across the table from Dennis the Menace. I’m glad I didn’t contact him. On the other hand, if I had contacted him, maybe we’d be engaged in a fascinating conversation about Madagascar. Or NASCAR. Or who knows what? My mother used to say that there’s a cover for every pot—her way of consoling me when I was convinced, in middle school, that I’d never find a boyfriend. I tend to believe that there are lots of covers for every pot; some just fit better than others.

I watch these two and wonder: Are they disappointed with each other? Are they

I’d like to see a guy at his best and worst and something in between.

having sex yet? Is the sex good enough to justify whatever personality shortcomings may exist?

Now the woman is reaching across the table for a napkin and manages to knock his root beer float off the table, and it hits the floor with a soft thud, spilling soda and ice cream all over Speedy Scoop’s linoleum floor. A red flush spreads from her neck to her cheeks and ears as she throws the entire contents of the napkin dispenser onto the floor, then tries to mop up the whole mess with her black leather boot. I check his face to see if he’s exasperated, disgusted, or nonplussed. Actually, he looks bemused. That’s a plus. Better bemused than disgusted.

It occurs to me that this could be a useful tool, observing prospective dates while they’re out with other people. It’s almost like a test drive, except you’re watching from the bleachers. I wouldn’t mind watching a video of the first couple of dates but I’d prefer to see the relationship at a later stage, maybe after a couple of years. I’d like to see a guy at his best and worst and something in between, and I’d get to review these “relationship tapes” before I make contact.

Thursday, 6 p.m.
One day later I get another opportunity to observe human courtship behavior. I’m out to dinner with my boss at the new Japanese restaurant and we’re sitting elbow to elbow with a couple that seems to be on their first date.

From the side she looks like a brunette version of Faith Hill while he’s rather nondescript. But what he lacks in physical distinction he makes up for in decibels. He’s doing all the talking while she gazes dreamily at him. Or maybe she’s zoning out. Hard to tell.

As I sit there I learn that:

1. He can tell a lot about a person over the phone and knew right away that she would make a wonderful wife and mother. (Slow down, buddy!)
2. Three years ago he would never have had the nerve to approach someone as beautiful as she is. (I admire your honesty. I think.)
3. He has spent a lot of time reading about women and relationships and has worked hard to improve his own self-esteem. (Too much information!)

He calls the waiter over and launches into a dissertation on Cabernet Sauvignon, clearly trying to impress his date. And at the end of the meal, he tips the waiter so extravagantly that the guy winds up returning to the table to confirm that he hadn’t made a mistake. “No, no, not at all,” the blowhard assures him. “I’m a firm believer in rewarding good service.” Then he winks at his date. Maybe I’m imagining it but I think she just winced.

Better you than me, honey, I think.

Sara Susannah Katz is a writer in the Midwest.

Read Single In The Suburbs, Part 54