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were more entertaining than the inane film shown on the flight. I don’t know what was worse—her peach lipstick or his spray-on tan? I am sure that she was with him for nothing more than the size of his wallet. But then again, in today’s world, it’s possible she was the one with the money. I finally engulfed myself in some Céline Dion music available on one of the airline channels and reread the safety card from the seatback pocket (where else would you put that air mask that drops down, other than on your face?). At times like these, my mind wanders into its own Aussie territory. After the announcement to push up the tray tables, I quickly brushed my hair and checked myself in my small pocket mirror. What if he is not attracted to me? What if he likes his women thin? The old self-deprecating thoughts quickly reemerged. We finally landed, and as I exited the airplane, I quickly scanned the crowd for my Aussieman.
    The music stopped, the crowd parted, and there he was, with a bush hat and all. Just kidding. I saw him approach me, and I noticed that he looked at least fifteen years older than his photo. Like Paul (the mistake in chapter 2), David had tried to pull a fast one by sending me an earlier photo of himself. However, this time I wasn’t safely across the street from my apartment building. Although he was attractive, I neither heard bells and whistles nor did I see fireworks. But maybe that was a good sign, based on my past experiences.
    It also appeared that he wasn’t too enthralled with me. I didn’t see his eyes light up once he saw me. Perhaps I too looked older than my photo or he didn’t realize until he saw me in person that I was a few pounds overweight. But he was pleasant nonetheless. Separately we both had arranged our lodging. The hotels were conveniently located across the street from the airport.
    Over the next two days we engaged in several platonic activities such as sightseeing, ocean swimming, and a day trip to Kauai. After swimming, I wondered if he was put off by the sight of my body in a bathing suit. Although he was pleasant and extremely cordial, we both knew the error of our ways. Without saying it, his nonverbal expressions exuded his error. His eyes were aloof, his voice was monotone, and the incessant tapping of his fingernails at the restaurant table communicated a clear disinterest in me. I too began noticing single men my age everywhere I went, and I half-wished I was talking to them instead of David. Although I increasingly felt I was with a brother rather than a potential mate, I became quite comfortable with David.
    After revisiting his original intentions in Internet dating, I discovered why his first and second wives had divorced him. Ironically, it was due to chronic infidelity stemming from his Internet encounters. Talk about clouded vision. After more than a half an hour of David’s lurid tales of sexual fiasco, I noticed a slight tear developing in the corner of his right eye, as the traditional Hawaiian sun shower emerged. I then truly realized that the Internet dating world was an extremely sharp two-edged sword; David cut himself free from two marriages and three children, yet he also continued to cut short any chance of future happiness. As far as I was concerned, the only knife I was interested in was a single-edged knife (a machete, maybe?) that could cut me a path the hell out of there!
    David finally showed his maturity when he shook my hand the way men ordinarily do, and apologized to me, yet another innocent victim. Both the revelation of his infidelity and the heartfelt apology cleared the path I needed. Boy was I glad there was no initial spark. We mutually agreed there was not a match there, and we both went our separate ways to enjoy the remainder of our vacations independently.
    During the flight home, I began to question why I kept doing the same thing over and over again. Why do I have a love of adventure and a need for excitement? What makes a man