BIA!!! BIAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've been e-corresponding with a gentlemen who I met via a friend/coworker's mother. She met him at a conference, liked his "beautiful spirit" and immediately thought to hook me up with him. She (we'll call her the Millionaire Matchmaker, MM for short) is always thinking of me in this way. Very close to Valentine's Day, she met and chatted up the "most gorgeous man" in the Publix down the street from both of our homes. Tall, bald, muscular. He complained to her about not being able to find a nice woman who wanted to settle down. She told him about me, her daughter's "beautiful friend," but seeing as though she didn't know my contact information, she chose instead to tell him my workplace. She made me promise that if I got flowers at work from this gentleman on V-Day that I would make her a part of our wedding. If you're wondering, I didn't get any flowers or any calls at work. But, I must admit, for about a month, every time I went to that Publix, I made sure that I was swexy (sweet-looking, but sexy, in PrettySpeak).

So, when MM told me about her most recent find for me, I was less than enthusiastic. He sounded interesting: a brother who left a promising career in an intriguing field to become a public school teacher because he wanted to give back to the community. However, he lived in another city and MM didn't know him from Adam. Nevertheless, I allowed her to share my e-mail addy with him since I am typically open to meeting like-minded individuals.

He didn't contact me for two weeks (Not that I was counting. I couldn't help but notice the duration of time since MM had her daughter ask me every day had "the man of my dreams" e-mailed yet.)

Then, one day as I was checking my e-mail for the umpteenth time (I have a serious problem with checking my three e-mail accounts every three minutes), I noticed a message from a random. It was from the teacher, who I like to call Mr. Holland (as in "Mr. Holland's Opus).