I’d been on the search for the perfect man for years. I didn’t care what he looked like as long as he was charming, considerate, and compassionate. I wanted a godly man of character, but it seemed the only guys left were immature nobodies, still mooching off their moms and dads.
My happily married friends loved listening to my dating woes. They offered words of encouragement and threw new guys into my path. None of which lived up to my expectations.
“You’re setting your sights too high.” My sister warned. “There are no perfect men out there.”
I ignored her advice. She hadn’t waited to find the right guy, and now she had three kids and worked overtime at a fast food joint to pay for her husband’s gambling debts. Did I mention the free babysitting she expected my parents to provide? I wasn’t going to end up like her.
But all the local guys were just like my brother-in-law – little boys who refused to grow up and be men.
It was time to take matters into my own hands. I’d waited long enough for the perfect man to materialize at my door. I would find him, even if it took me to the far reaches of the earth.
As I browsed through the pages of dating sites, my plan didn’t seem like such a great idea. How would I know which site to choose? As I created a status for my news feed, asking that very question, I noticed an ad on the side bar for a popular dating site. It was a sign. I signed up without posting the question.
Three weeks later, after rejecting nearly one hundred loafers, I was finally matched to someone interesting. David was a well-educated man with a godly heritage. Not only did he fit my criteria, he was also cute.
Delightful weeks passed as David and I chatted on line. He was everything that I had been looking for in a man. But the one drawback was he lived in another country. Long distance relationships were notoriously difficult, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to the bother. But then I would talk with David again and know he was worth it.
Then David gave the big announcement. Ready or not, he was coming to visit. My heart pounded in anticipation. We had talked about all kinds of things on the phone and by email, but what would he think when he met me in person? What would I think of him?
I consulted my friends about making a great impression. While they laughed at my nervousness, they suggested that I make myself an expert on what interested him. I scoured his profile, searching for something new to learn and talk about. That was when I noticed a very strange term – Parliamentarian. David was a Member of Parliament? How had I missed that?
As I waited for our first meeting, I learned everything I could about the workings of Parliament. I studied strange facts and important dates. I wanted to impress David with my knowledge and understanding of his real job on Parliament Hill.
The night finally arrived. I dressed my best and with all the facts I’d gleaned, I met David at the restaurant. He was everything I hoped he’d be – charming, considerate, and compassionate.
Half way through dinner, our conversation lagged, so I began expounding on my new found interest in Parliament. David listened with a smile, adding other points of interest on the way.
“I’d love to visit Parliament Hill someday.” I said, after exhausting my store of knowledge.
“I’d like that, too. You’d make a fantastic guide.” He smiled and reached for my hand. “I’ve only been up on Parliament Hill once, but I think we’d enjoy discovering it’s secrets together.”
“But I thought you were a Member.” I shook my head.
“A Member of Parliament?” David laughed. “Me?”
“Your profile says you’re a parliamentarian.” I pulled my hand away. “Did you lie to me?”
David shook with mirth. “I am a parliamentarian. But if you’d have googled that term, instead of Member of Parliament, you would have discovered that a parliamentarian is someone who is well versed in parliamentary procedure, not necessarily a Member of Parliament.”
“And you’re interested in parliamentary procedure?”
“I am.” David took my hand again. “But I loved hearing all the interesting information about Parliament itself. Would you go there with me?”
How could I refuse?
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