Before I met Melanie (cue sad, lesbian guitar music) I was alone. Staring into the flicker of a single candle, muttering dreary things to myself in French. Ennui? Oui.

Actually, that’s not true. The month before I met her I was finishing my master’s degree in fiction and working a full time job. There wasn’t much time for candle gazing, and I don’t even know if “ennui” is a French word. But I did think about my love life (or lack thereof) a lot.

One day during a meeting with Barb, my thesis advisor, she pointed out something about a short story of mine that wasn’t working.

“I don’t believe that Jess would fall in love with Pam,” she said. “Pam’s an asshole.”

I said something like, “I wouldn’t say that she’s an asshole. She’s feisty and complex.”

“She’s an asshole,” said Barb. “And so is Jess’s ex-husband. Why would Jess go from mean partner to mean partner?”

“Oh,” I said. “I think I do that. In real life.”

We didn’t talk about it for long in Barb’s office because we were there to talk about my story. That just the thing, though. My love story was influencing the stories that I was writing. The woman I loved were often loud, larger than life people, and versions of them were running around in my stories. They were so loud, Barb pointed out, that she couldn’t hear other characters on the page. That’s how it was in real life too. I liked that I could find a tough person, the one who trusted no one, and get them to open up. Sometimes they hurt me and other people, but in my mind their reasons were understandable – they’d been hurt, abandoned, or abused, or they had a mood disorder. None of those things were their fault. I was right about that part. But I was miserable.

How was I supposed to write happy queer love stories when I hadn’t had one? My epiphany in Barb’s office happened when I was 43. “Too old,” I thought, “to find a good love.” Because in order to do so I was going to have to rewire my brain to be attracted to a nice lady.

On the other hand, I knew that no matter how old I got I would still be complaining about my love life. Better to do something now and save myself years of hearing myself lament with a mouthful of ice cream.

So I did three things, which are all pre-pandemic and so much easier at the time: 1) I did social things that I was interested in so I could possibly meet a like-minded awesome lady. 2) I signed up for an online dating site under my nickname “Gwnyvr” (Gwenevere). I chose Zoosk because somebody told me it was for people who are looking for relationships rather than hookups, though there is definitely that to be found, since the site ignored my filters – which turned out to be to my benefit. And because I wanted to leave no stone unturned: 3) I cast a spell with the moon.

Despite what my middle daughter will tell you I am not a white witch. She thinks I am because I’m sometimes have premonitions about things that happen. I don’t think that makes me psychic. I just think the same bullshit happens over and over again, and I’m better at seeing it coming. As for the spell, I honestly just wanted to feel like I was doing everything I could to change this part of my life.

Two out of three things worked, and one of them was NOT meeting Melanie in real life. Which I think is funny. I think most of us feel that meeting someone in real life is ideal. You’re introduced to someone at a party, or bump into someone at the library who’s reaching for the same book you are. But we forget that before dating sites there were Want Ads in the paper. There was a way that someone would call out, “I am single and I am looking for…” Sometimes it worked. Like that guy in Germany who took out an ad for someone to eat because he was a hungry cannibal, and somebody replied. While most of us don’t want to be eaten, most of us want honesty in an ad, and whatever else the cannibal was we can’t say he wasn’t up front about what his intentions.

I’m probably not selling you on the idea of online dating when I talk about cannibals. So let me tell you how I became certain about the kind of person I wanted and rewrited my brain, because the spell helped in that regard. I googled something like “white magic spell to attract true love” or some such. I don’t remember exactly, but I found this: https://www.white-magic-help.net/About_White_Magic/love_spells.html#Spell_for_calling_your_true_love

What really helped was the meditative aspect of it. I would say what I wanted in a person out loud every night for twelve nights and then ask myself if I was treating myself the way I wanted to be treated. After a few days of this, I didn’t even care if the spell didn’t work. It had given me a clear idea of what I wanted in a relationship. By the end of twelve nights I was clear.

Zoosk, however, wasn’t. It ignored some of my filters, like age and relationship status. I kept getting women in their 20’s who were in open relationships, when I had specified over 37, single, and monogamous. Not that I’m against open relationships for other people, they just don’t work for me (best not to ask how I know). I had made a deal with myself that I had to like at least five women a day and that if one of those women liked me as well I had to message her. For two months, this went nowhere EXCEPT (and this was a big except) I no longer felt helpless about my love life. I was trying.

Then Zoosk ignored Melanie’s settings. She had specified non-divorced and no kids. She had never been married but wanted to be some day and was afriad that someone who was divorced wouldn’t want to get married again. She had also never wanted to raise children. SHE WAS WRONG! She thought I was cute, so she liked me and I messaged her. Her username was “Geekgirl,” which I thought was a broad description. There are just so many different types, you know?

“What kind of geek are you?” I asked her.

She was a geek for a lot of the same stuff I was a geek for! And really, isn’t that what true love is all about? Finding a person who geeks out on the same things that you do? Well no, there’s a lot of other stuff, but for dating site messenging it’s a good place to start.

We wrote to each other for a few days and then she said, “I’m going out of town for work and you don’t seem crazy. Here’s my number.”

I thought sure that since she would be out of town I wouldn’t hear from her. But I did (heart explodes). We talked for ten more days before we met. It was ten more days of increasingly heart-explody conversations where we made each other laugh and blush.

When we finally met in person it wasn’t like meeting her for the first time. It was like seeing her again for the first time in a long time. The way she moved and spoke was comforting in a good, familiar way.

We’ve been together ever since. And yes, she fit everything in that letter I wrote specifying what I wanted. One thing I didn’t ask for was tall. She’s 6’2″ and I’m six feet. We are a wall of person.

My love stories have changed now. I write about people who are don’t ultimately choose to suffer in their relationships because now I know what a healthy one feels like. Melanie and I have laughter and banter and talking in weird accents and singing ludicrous songs to each other. There’s getting through hard stuff with love and listening to each other too. Of course for fiction I have to make it a little more dramatic than real life. If not, my stories would read like this:

“Veronica, when you say that you want meatloaf for dinner I feel hurt because you know that I’m vegan.”

“Thank you for telling me how you feel, Pauline,” said Veronica. “My feelings about meatloaf have nothing to do with you.”

“Of course,” Pauline said. “Both of our feelings are valid.”

“Agreed.”

[Shakes hands]

To keep the plot edgy there should at least be a food fight. But as writer Julia Cameron says, “Keep the drama on the page.” And as Stephen King said in his book On Writing, “Stay married.” A relationship where you feel loved and supported is a invaluable to your creative life.

If you’ve been looking for someone for a long time don’t give up. Keep looking for them. Tell the whole universe who you want. If you’ve only been attracted to people who don’t know how to love you, rewire your brain. That’s what I had to do. Find your Geekgirl.