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One of the many types of men I have always thought would make a great match for me is a nice southern boy, the kind who looks hot in a plaid shirt, plays guitar, and loves his mama more than sweet tea. I saw words like "honest" and "easy-going."Farmers really like to describe themselves as gentlemen, it seems, and though I'm not entirely sure what that means in this day and age, I felt like all of these guys were safe.I can see him now, dirty blond hair gleaming in the sunshine, out in a field chewing on a piece of wheat. Like the fact that they respect women is not just lip service they use to get laid.In the summer of 2013, I moved from Boston, Massachusetts (population 4.5 million), to Hudson, New York (population 6,600).
Welper would travel nearly three hours on weekends to meet Kliebenstein at his farm in tiny Darlington, Wisconsin.Latest activity in Texas Chat: Teen Girls Harassed By Liberals, Upload a Humorous Meme of Your Photo..., What are some of your most memorable moments, The Eclipse Planets, Was it a liberal?, Liberal Sheep's Climate Hero, The Democratic Party, What is it you libs want America to look like?I loved reading other men’s profiles, comparing my narrative to theirs, imagining if they could ever intertwine. I was a relative newcomer to town, but even so I felt sure I would recognize everyone with a profile. Oh, well.)I turned to technology next, but technology that hadn’t been available to me when I last dated in Boston: Tinder, the location-based app that shows you little more than a couple of pictures, a line of text, and overlapping Facebook friends. In fact only a couple of swiping sessions, within a couple of days. I increased the top end of my age range to 40, and then 45. I began to more carefully consider every single man, every single potential match. And so as I swiped away, I found myself both matching and connecting with men I would never have given a second thought in the city. I met farmers, construction workers, photographers, writers, and even a professor from Bard. The first man I dated post-breakup served us beers with a friendly hello. One night after lugging my boxes into the Boston apartment about a month later, I logged on to Tinder.What I loved most, however, was that when a date was over, it was over, if I wanted it to be. And the flip side of that: They would recognize me. The first person I dated after my breakup I actually met IRL. “There’s no one new around you,” the little red words pulsed on my screen. I was disappointed in myself for being so narrow-minded. People tend to live upstate in towns like Hudson for a few reasons: to escape, to find the space for creativity, or for an unfettered love of the land. I chatted with a law student in Albany who lived with his parents. I briefly dated a tall, tattooed man who worked at an art gallery in Chelsea when he was in town for a week on a job. (We didn’t.)Toward the end of June, I met a man who worked as a freight train conductor. We took them to the patio, to sit in the humid dusk of an early August evening. Later, I glanced up to see the tattooed art gallery employee, who had returned to town for another gig, across the room. I swiped for five full minutes but I didn’t run out of men.