butter or chicken?” “From the way he licks our jars clean when we are done with them, I know he’s a fan of peanut butter.” Seth leaned down to give the dogs their bone-shaped cookies, and I took a deep breath to calm myself. Then I shifted the conversation and started asking him some questions. I learned that he was a boat builder, that he loved nature and that he wasn’t just handsome. He was also funny, smart, and sweet. Mr. Finley, the grandfatherly bakery owner, stopped by our table to see if we needed anything. When he leaned over Seth’s shoulder to refill the hot water in our tea mugs, he caught my eye and waggled his bushy eyebrows, making me smile. I kept looking for the fatal flaw that must be present in Seth, but I sure didn’t see one. With this level of perfection, women must be throwing themselves at him all the time. It didn’t make sense for him to be spending time with me, while seeming to enjoy himself. I almost had myself convinced that he was gay when he asked if he could see me again. I made a valiant attempt to control the excitement in my voice as I responded that I could probably work him into my busy schedule, texted him my cell phone number and told him goodbye. Then I proceeded to float on cloud nine all the way home, thinking about what a fantastic day this had turned out to be.