The Virginian-Pilot
                            THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT  
              Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Sunday, February 5, 1995               TAG: 9502010057
SECTION: REAL LIFE                PAGE: K1   EDITION: FINAL 
COLUMN: REAL LOVE
SOURCE: BY DEBRA GORDON, STAFF WRITER 
                                             LENGTH: Medium:   87 lines

GETTING PERSONAL TIRED OF BEING SINGLE? ONE WRITER DECIDED TO BYPASS THE MEAT MARKET BAR SCENE AND WRITE A PERSONAL AD.

I noticed your recent personal ad in Port Folio and decided that I might just be the person you're looking for. . .

It was one of more than a dozen letters I'd received from a brief ad I'd placed in Portfolio magazine that fall after separating from my husband.

I was ready to start dating but had no idea of how or where to meet men. I was working 70 hours a week, including most weekends, in a company that was mostly female - with the exception of a handful of guys, all married.

And I had a 3-year-old son.

I'd gone one Saturday night to the bars with a single woman I'd met. It was horrible.

We'd walk in, get a drink, and she'd scan the room with a practiced eye.

``He looks hot,'' she'd say, and head over to make her move.

Or, ``there's nothing here,'' and, gulping down our drinks, we'd be out the door.

The bars were all loud and smoky - an atmosphere I hated. If this was how you met men these days, I decided, then I'd better ready myself for some long, lonely nights.

I'd toyed with the idea of placing a personal ad for a while, had been reading them for months. But that Saturday night of bar hopping convinced me.

I called Monday morning.

I don't remember exactly what I said in that ad (it's long lost in one of my frequent moves), but I do remember writing it as a wish list. It was the one advantage to having a failed marriage - I knew exactly what I didn't want.

Right up front I mentioned my son (no point in someone answering the ad who didn't like kids), my predilection for marathon reading sessions, my love of cooking, my boredom with sports and the fact that I loved nothing more than spending an entire weekend reading, eating and drinking good wine.

I asked for someone with at least a college degree, a professional. And noted that I worked in the health care profession.

I said I wanted someone warm and loving, someone who wasn't afraid to openly express his feelings, to talk to me of his deepest thoughts and dreams, to share with me the little details of his day. Someone with great patience (I was not an easy person to live with), and, most important, someone who was special.

And that's just what I got.

I am 28 years old, 175 lbs., a little under 6 feet tall, and physically very fit. I have brown curly hair and a beard (usually closely trimmed). I don't smoke and don't drink much in the way of hard liquor, but I do enjoy an occasional cold beer at the end of a hard day and a nice wine with a good meal. I have lived in the Norfolk/Va. Beach area for three-and-a-half years now. Prior to that I was in Melbourne, Australia, for just over three years, and before that I lived in Scotland. I am a medical researcher at a local medical school. . . .

It was the only letter I answered. On a whim, one Saturday morning, I called. At the very least, I thought, he'd have an interesting accent.

We talked for a few minutes and then arranged to meet the following afternoon for a drink at a local restaurant.

When I arrived, and was led back to the guy in the last booth, the one with the thick, curly hair, overgrown beard, and puppy dog brown eyes, I was immediately smitten.

We talked that first day for three hours. About our work. How hard it was to meet people. Our pasts.

And when we said goodbye, it was with a date scheduled for the following weekend.

One year and one month later, we were married.

It's been four years now, and while Keith can no longer claim he weighs 175 pounds; while his hair has turned almost completely gray (I told you I'm not that easy to live with); and while he rarely has time to be physically fit anymore (our 2-year-old takes care of that), he's turned out exactly as I imagined on that long ago, late October day when I sat down and visualized the perfect man.

You ask in your ad that I tell you why I'm special. That's a tough one, everyone is special in their own right. I guess if I had to say something, I would say that I'm special because I really care about friends, I have a healthy body and a very active, inquisitive mind that's always open to suggestions of new things to try . . . . Go on, give me a call. ILLUSTRATION: GARY KNAPP/Color photos

Writer Debra Gordon met her husband, Keith, through the Port Folio

magazine personals. They've been married for four years.

by CNB