Rhea told me about Shawn, a friend of hers, who had been using Match.com about as much as it could be used. He had gone on multiple dates every weekend with anyone who was presented as potentially compatible and even remotely attractive. As examples, she mentioned that he had one date with a physically-handicapped bisexual woman at a LGBT poetry slam, and another at a rock-climbing event. Admittedly, the details escape me at the moment, but I have to believe it wasn't the same woman, as I can't - as much as I want to - imagine this woman pulling herself up the side of a cliff with her wheelchair in tow.

Anyway, her point was that he'd been on all these dates, but hasn't had much success in finding Ms. Right because on Match.com if this one has a hair out of place, or wears jean shorts, or has any one silly, superficial thing that isn't perfect, well, there are a hundred potential dates waiting in his queue who wouldn't dare think of wearing jorts. And so every good thing gets passed up because just around the bend, there exists the possibility of something better.

Is that what I'm doing? I don't know. But I have noticed that as I get older, my tastes have become just a little more discriminating. I suppose I should be careful that I don't fall in love with some nonexistent ideal. Ideals won't give me the Heimlich when I'm choking alone in my condo. And they definitely will not haul mobility devices up to the mountaintop.