It was 2002.  I was dejected.  A string of...well, let's call them "interesting" relationships had led me to the conclusion that women were pretty much a waste of time and that my time would best be spent living a life of celibacy, dressing in black and cutting myself in dark rooms.  Of course, this is already the lifestyle of the average software developer anyway, so it really wouldn't have been much of a stretch, but bear with me.  Trust me, those times were emotional.

I probably would not have been *quite* as emo had it not been for the seemingly *constant* reminders of the relationship success of my friends.  I'm sure you've all experienced the friend who, knowing that your feelings on romance are quite negative, nonetheless *insists* on calling you *every single day* to tell you about how, "JEFF IS THE GREATEST AND THE CUTEST AND I'M SO LUCKY AND WE'RE GOING TO GET MAAAAAAARRRRRRRRIED SQUEEEEE...and so are you still bitter about not being as happy as I am?"

How could I be bitter?  I had accepted the fact that I would live alone and die alone, inspired by the example of my hero Captain James Kirk - except that for all of his bluster James Kirk never died alone.


No, that histrionic piece of crap died with Captain Picard right beside him!  I *knew* that it was my mission to outKirk Kirk, and *truly* die alone...rejected by society, underneath a stack of empty pizza boxes.  However, it seemed the Lord had plans for me *other* than dying in my own filth.

After one evening of listening to my friend wax poetic for 30 minutes about how much she enjoyed scraping the dirt out from Jeff's toenails, my patience was wearing thin. It had never worn thinner than when my friend finished off with,

"Don't worry, you'll find somebody someday."

I'm pretty confident that this trite cliche would try the patience of even the most relaxed person, let alone Mr. Angstfest 2002 (TM).  In fact, I was reasonably certain that in the history of mankind, the number of times that this phrase has *truly* comforted someone is somewhere between the range of -1 and -1 *million*.   So I did what any other disbeliever would do...I asked her to prove it with money.   I figured that would shut her up!  It didn't.

My friend was convinced I would find the woman I was to marry within two years. So if I was right and remained single for two years, she would pay all of the expenses for a one-week vacation to the North American area of my choice.  However, if *she* turned out to be right and I met my future wife sometime in the following two years, I would owe *her* the money and have to pay for *her* to do the same.

Now, this wasn't as simple as my locking myself up in a cave and winning the bet (trust me, I probably would've tried).  No, instead, I had to make a legitimate effort to meet someone.  In fact, to win the bet, I had to prove that I had tried *everything* and *still* failed to secure marriage material.  Even with all of these conditions, I gleefully accepted and began mentally planning my vacation.  How hard could winning this bet be?

To be continued tomorrow, when I talk about Lavalife, lost bets, and how I met Mrs. L...