The other day I wrote about my online dating experiment, conducted some few years ago before I found my guy. It was a daunting search, and happened a few months before Valentine's Day. I looked at it like a big sociology experiment, since while my interest in meeting someone great was real, the disappointment of not finding a good match was, too. Thinking of the process as a science made it easier, more ironic, funnier, less depressing.

During the search I was taken to several nice dinners but also raised my alcohol intake and cholesterol considerably and had my car impounded. I met sports coaches, lawyers, technophiles, an understudy for the Phantom of the Opera, doctors, surfers, day traders, and many more.

Some were classic sociopaths, others regular Joes. At least two were likely gay but giving it one more go 'round in the straight world. Several men had "dog issues," wherein it was made clear that should a relationship develop, there was no question who would always be more important in the equation: the dog. One made his Rhodesian Ridgeback scrambled eggs on his dog's birthday. Another refused to go away for a weekend with me because the dog could not come.

By the end of December, I met a good-looking guy who kept homes in NY and Miami. He exuded tool-ishiness, but invited me for a date in Miami on New Year's Eve. I went, since I had friends there anyway and figured the possibility of my ending up chopped up or drowned in the Everglades was low. It was not a love connection to say the least, and he was a turd.

It was January 2006 and I had no one. Glum, shortly after, I went to see a $375/hour cognitive therapist my mom paid for (these days I save my money for more constructive things, like food and shoes); she clearly thought I needed help. One session with the good doctor, and I vowed to swear off dating men who, as he put it, "had different goals" than I did. For instance, those who did not want to have a family but preferred to date every woman in New York at once with no interest in finding someone special (oh, the irony).

Three weeks later -- but not by Valentine's but on April Fool's Day -- I met my daughter's father , a special guy. He was my next door neighbor and our living rooms and bedrooms had been abutted all along. I took it as kismet and began to date him. We now have our most adored Little L.

So, if you find yourself feeling bereft in advance of this Valentine's Day, take action now! Use the web if you're ballsy. You've still got a month and a half till April first. There is comfort in the idea that matches can be found in the least likely places -- online or off. Comment with your own disaster stories -- and happy endings.

Previously: Part I

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