I know now that Izzy finding me wasn't an accident, but that was the impression she had to put out. She never wanted me to suspect that there was an ulterior motive. How she knew that I'd be on Wottacatch.com is beyond me. But I guess when you are a stalker, you have your ways. She wasn't really a stalker in the traditional sense though, because she had a very real reason for finding me. She thought I had answers. I had none.

Izzy—short for Isobel—contacted me through my mailbox on Wottacatch.com. I hadn't run across her in my searches, but that was because I limited my search for matches to within 50 miles of my apartment in Boston. Izzy was from Chicago. I'd had women contact me from afar before, but I always ignored those messages. I figured that someone making contact from hundreds or thousands of miles away was either really desperate or a little "off" in the head. Izzy's message, however, seemed logical. She was moving to Boston and would be in town scouting for apartments. She saw my profile and liked what she saw. What man is able to say no to that? We had a little correspondence after her initial contact, a few emails back and forth, and agreed to meet at Au Bon Pain in Copley Place on a Saturday.

I can't say that there was anything in our initial correspondence that took my breath away. Even the small picture in her profile didn't exactly wow me. She was not unattractive in any sense, just not my type. She had the sharp features of someone who had led a hard life. She looked to be a smoker, although her profile listed her as a non-smoker. She was a couple of years older than me—not a deal-breaker. I was willing to give it a try. If we clicked over croissant sandwiches, then we could make a more substantial date. It had to be Saturday or Sunday for me, as my job was very unforgiving when it came to taking time off during the week.

I was the customer service manager for a mail-order house based in Boston. The job was even less sexy than the title indicated. I worked an average of ten hours a day, Monday through Friday. Twelve hours wasn't out of the question. And I was on salary, so overtime pay was not an option. While I supposedly had an hour for lunch, that was a joke. Combine long hours with low pay and you get a pretty disgruntled worker. Depressed is more the word. I really had no time to job hunt, and even if I could find the time to scour career sites online, when would I interview? I couldn't quit and I couldn't look for a job. Basically, I was stuck, and they knew it. Perfect for them.

I arrived at Copley Place a few minutes early, but she was already waiting. We recognized each other from the pictures and introduced ourselves, giving the obligatory, but awkward initial hug of online acquaintances meeting for the first time. I had already pegged this as a one-time meet, and then we would both drift back into cyberspace to try someone else.