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The sun was just dipping below the horizon when we arrived at his church, Mother Cabrini on Fort Washington Avenue. If my profile had been anywhere near honest, it would have read, “I’m an emotional eater with self-righteous tendencies who has never even owned a proper pair of running shoes and has frequent sex dreams about my eighth grade math teacher.” Patrick texted me the next day, begging me to allow him to explain why he did what he did.
At Muddy Matches we have over 200,000 members from the UK and Ireland who all have one thing in common: they love the countryside!He looked exactly like his photos and he hadn’t lied about his height; he was at least three inches taller than me, making him truly 6’1”. Our walk along the Highline took on the flavor of a stroll on the Champs-Élysées.He taught me some French phrases and I tried to impress him with the few words I already knew. As we walked, he opened up, admitting that he occasionally still worked with his ex-wife, whom he met while studying in Mexico City. It wasn’t long before the dreaded text message came.“Hmm, you smell like cigarettes,” I said between smooches. I figured this was the most authentic act of faith: to listen and forgive.We met at a nicer restaurant across the street from the Mc Donald’s.