We both have French names.

The journey began on a Wednesday night... it is now Saturday afternoon and I have a highly anticipated date with, "The Ginger". I've been told once you go ginger, you never go back. I didn't believe it until I dated one. Now all I care about are those ever illusive, freckly, green eyed men. I mean the first thing I typed into the Match.com search engine was red hair and that's how I stumbled upon my first experiment.

I wrote a pretty ridiculous initial message about how much I loved bacon, Bourbon and anything 80s. He bit. Twice. And ended his second message with,

"Let's hang out... we both have French names, so you should call me. I hope you don't find this cheap, but my number is (303) 9** - 1***"

Cheap? Heavens no. I like a man that's direct. Am I about to embark on a date with a red headed hipster that rocks a Chester the molester stache? Possibly. Is there excitement mixed with trepidation? Yes, yes there is, cuz I mean, think of the children.