I met him online.

He contacted me, told me a little about himself in his email, asked me questions about myself and I replied with the answers. This went on for several weeks, VERY different from my other online experiences. Some men contacted me for the first time and asked me out for that very night. Not Bachelor #5.

He was a nice man. A good person. My same faith. A father of four. A college graduate. A responsible citizen. Employed. A home owner. Smart. Talented. Musical. Had been married 20 years. A man with interests and hobbies. Accomplished. A man with a life. (He was busy!) He even had ties to Hawaii.

After many emails, I made a joke about us meeting in person. But he didn’t joke back. He told me he found it best to get to know each other really well before meeting.

I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. He’d share something about himself and most times, I would have had a similar experience. Poor man. He probably wondered if I was competing with his accomplishments! But when he told me he’d been on the BYU Folk Dance Team, I had to shake my head and laugh. I’d even done that too!

In the meantime, while he emailed me a couple times each week, he kept busy with his work, with his passion for theater (not just attending shows, singing and performing in them!), spending time with his children, taking care of his youngest child who lived with him, living his very full life–even traveling to Hawaii.

I kept myself occupied too: full-time job, four children, my life, and working my way through the list of bachelors, some of whom I’ve written about.

Searching high and low for “Mr. Awesome.”

Searching for that happy ending I thought I’d had but refused to give up on in spite of a Ponzi scheme, betrayal, divorce and total life change.

And then unexpectedly, one day I got another email from Bachelor #5.

Inviting me to dinner.