Me, Picky?

If you'll pardon the expression, it's been a little dead around here lately (I write obits for our local newspapers, for the uninitiated). This has left me some time to fiddle around on the internet, checking blogs, reading too much MSNBC.com and as much as I hate to admit it, checking out articles on the MSN Dating website.

Ahem.

While I was surfing around this morning, this piece caught my eye. Mainly because, at various points in my dating past I have been accused of being just that, too picky. At first I was drawn to it because, well, to be honest I may have been just a scosh too critical. Not that I have any room to be picky about anything mind you, but yes, on occasion I've found the smallest of details and used that as my excuse to put the brakes on.

He's too tall.

He doesn't return my phone calls.

He doesn't appreciate Monty Python movies.

He lives too far away.

His laugh annoys the jeebers out of me.

He wasn't like someone I still harbor a little something for.

On and on the list could go. One would have too much of something then the next not enough. But as I read this article today I had the realization that my standards, while still a little high, are coming down. I started thinking about some of my formers and those that managed to stick around for a few dates...and yeah, my standards are definitely coming down. Not that that is a bad thing, per say, but rethinking some of my dating hijinx (or lack there of, for that matter) have made me realize that I'm becoming a little more forgiving of flaws that when I was younger, I never would have put up with.

A prime example is my current dating, if you want to call it that, situation.

Let me preface this by saying I learned the hard way a long time ago that putting details about my social life on the blog is not a good idea. Let's just say it was a lesson that brought a lot of unneccesary drama. And that's that. But I digress. Recently I've made the acquaintance of a very nice guy who, like myself, works two jobs and has a busy life on top of that. Our primary mode of communication is by phone, on any given day we play phone tag two or three times. For a stretch of time a few weeks ago I got nothing. No return phone calls. No emails. Nothing. The old me would have said, uh, no thanks. You can't return my phone call after a few days then that's it buddy. You're out of here.

But I didn't. I hung in there. And we're back to talking almost daily. Mainly because somewhere in the back of my head is this little voice, trying to yell over the doubts and the internal criticisms of myself that hey, this guy deserves a chance, cut him some slack.

So I am.

Unless it turns out he really isn't a Monty Python fan. Then we may have a problem.