Why she is the curvy, drop-dead gorgeous thirty five year old widow who discovered my profile on Match.com and fell instantly and incurably in love with me.
Ruth was born in Barcelona, but after her parents were killed in a car crash she removed to London where she was reared by an estranged aunt. She met her American husband at Oxford College and they were married soon after graduation. They then returned to the United States to start a family. When her only child was nine, her beloved spouse was diagnosed with an inoperable cancer. An agonizing six months later he died and Ruth was left alone with no one but her daughter Princess, who by the time of our correspondence, was twelve.
Ruth explained in her email that her husband's passing had been very difficult. She had become emotionally numb inside. The only love she could feel was for little Princess, who she vowed to care for and cherish like no other. In order to be at home, Ruth created her own consulting business specializing in the brokerage of commodities ranging from unrefined gold to oil and natural gas. (Her husband had been an energy specialist employed by the Federal government). With the help of her late husband's colleagues, Ruth’s business began to grow, as did its travel requirements. With no living relatives to help care for Princess, it was decided that her daughter be home schooled. With the aid of a tutor and cyber curriculum, Princess was able to travel with Ruth and they began to commute regularly to the Niger Delta where Ruth worked as a subcontractor for the Chevron Corporation.
Slowly, time began to erase the trauma of Ruth's loss. Still a young and vivacious woman, her desire to share her life with a good and caring man led her to Match.com. She evaluated many profiles in the first months, but found no one who triggered even the slightest interest. Ruth, a very spiritual woman, believed that if the right man was out there, she would feel it instantly in her heart and soul.
And then she opened up the Match.com's "Match of the Day" and there I was. BGHway.
Ruth took one look at my picture and knew I was the man she had been waiting for. After reading my bio, she sent me a wink. I responded in kind, and she posted an email and then another. By her third she was asking what I had eaten for dinner, concerned that as a bachelor I might not be taking care of myself as well as I should. It was important to her that I know she intended to care for me like "a king." Although quite shy in her first letters, she began to allude to her needs as a woman and the physical yearnings that were so mysteriously stimulated by the emails we exchanged. She adored my writings and the "hypnotically beautiful" photos that accompanied them. She explained how she could hardly wait to return from Nigeria to rush into my arms; to feel their powerful embrace, to taste my lips, certain my kisses would melt away the memories of her husband's painful passing and restore her to the passionate, nearly insatiable lover she had once been.
Well, you know, what guy looking for a good gal isn't cool with that? I suppose there's a little narcissist in us all. I mean, why wouldn't the Spanish version of Beyonce fall head over heals for me sight unseen. Words can be a powerful aphrodisiac. Beside, I’ve found the old salt and pepper look suits me pretty well. There's wisdom and security to be offered by a man in his fifties that certain younger women find irresistible. No, I was really looking forward to hooking up with Ruth. I wanted to see where all this cyber flirting would take us. My gosh, how often does one encounter a woman of heavenly visage and dimension who describes herself as "concerned about her appearance, but really quite low maintenance... who enjoys a romantic dinner out, but is equally content to get dirty cleaning out an old cabinet or doing some back yard gardening," and then " throwing something on the grill, having a bite to eat and falling exhausted into bed, intoxicated by the scent of her lover's company."
Yeah, it seemed wonderful, but then she let the other shoe drop.
Ruth, a cosmopolitan lady, was quick to point out that she held many traditional values. First and foremost, she was a one-man woman. Her loyalty and love, once committed, was unfaltering. She said that she could see in me those very same qualities and felt we should start immediately to build on the unique opportunity God had granted us. She told me that now her daughter was not the only love of her life, but that she had grown a second heart that beat only for me.
"My dearest Ron," (by now she was using my real first name) "I knew that my search for true love was at an end the moment I met you. I have cancelled my membership in Match.com for I no longer wish to appear available to others on the network. It would please me very much if you would set up a Yahoo chat account so that we could communicate in a more intimate and immediate fashion. I would also ask that you too remove your profile from Match.com as a symbol of your mutually held intentions toward me. As I am sure you know by now, I am not a "one night stand" kind of girl."
Okay...wow....! I was all right with everything up to that point, but cancel my brand new membership? Give up my chance to see and be seen on the nation's number one dating site? Hold those horses partner, that is one strange request! Then I thought, well maybe this Ruth is a little weird. (Like nothing up to this point had given that impression? REALLY?) !
So I did what I seldom do. I called my friend who works for the CIA. Well, I don't know if Mr. Z actually works for the CIA. I mean, that's something not even your best friend would tell you. Lets just say he's a guy who can access stuff on the Internet like nobody's business. If anyone could check out this heartthrob of mine, it would be Mr. Z. So I gave him Ruth Brinkley's name and set him loose. Ten minutes later he had me back on the phone.
"Okay, is she incredibly gorgeous?" Z. asked
"Do her pictures look like they may have been taken by a professional, perhaps in a studio?"
"Outside of this daughter of hers, is she alone in the world?"
"Yep." I repeated again.
"Did she by chance request that you communicate through some private server, not through the dating network?"
"She sure did."
"And does she claim to have a high income job that takes her to West Africa or Malaysia?"
"Hell yes, that's my Ruth." I gushed.
"Well, " Z continued, "I think Miss Brinkley is really what we call Scam 401. She's an invention of cyber space; a babe just a little bit too good to be true. She preys on gullible computer dating newcomers like you; successful older guys who are suckers for flattery and the dream of the perfect woman. Of course she isn't offering a spoonful of sex; she's offering a lifetime of incredible lovin'. The 401 scammer moves the relationship forward quickly, cutting the mark out from the herd by suggesting they leave the dating network and become more intimate on a private chat site. 401 may string you along for weeks or even months before making the first move and then it is almost always a small loan for an expense that has caught her out of pocket on one of her business trips. A loan you make which she quickly repays. Once this relationship is established, the grifter posing as your Ruth sits back and waits until the perfect occasion to spring the trap. The next loan will be for major money... bang-o... your honor as a committed gentlemen is at stake. You feel obliged to meet the request or potentially throwaway hours of courtship by acting unethical in your romantic intentions toward this ethereal internet love. So you wire the cash and that my friend is the last time you hear from Ruth Brinkley.”
I was somewhat down hearted to learn that Ruth was fiction, but what fine fiction she was! We all hope for the perfect lover and for a few short hours I thought perhaps I'd found mine. How could I not save the last message she sent:
"Thank you Ron for your kind messages. I will go to bed and you should please do the same and have a good rest. I want you to keep me in your heart and keep safe from dangers. Dream of me tonight and I will do the same.
On thousand kisses and hugs for you Ron.