Confession… Six months ago my dating life was stale. In preparation for a semi-permanent move to Georgia, I was living with my friends (a married couple), pinching pennies and spending most nights alone with Oscar. In the blink of an eye I went from “Sex and the City” to “Three’s Company,” leaving little fodder for my column. Confession… I renewed my subscription to Match.com. Being the thrifty gal I am, I decided the purpose of my renewal would be two fold: 1. Prowl the surrounding region for exciting/miserable tales to document in my column; 2. See what kind of eligible bachelors are in Atlanta (surely there had to be more than in Lansing). Confession… I found a very handsome and eligible bachelor … in Atlanta. As if my excitement and anticipation for the move in September wasn’t enough to keep me up at night, I had now entered into a long-distance, technology-dependent relationship with a relative stranger. Surely this wouldn’t yield the hands-on material I needed for a column. Confession… He flew to Michigan to meet me. After several months of communication, (including online chats, emails, phone calls, text messages, letters, packages, postcards and FaceTime) we finally met in June, face-to-face, at the Detroit Metro Airport (think You’ve Got Mail, but on purpose). Very romantic. Definitely hands-on. (Note: considering most of the men I date have trouble arriving on time, picking up the tab and generally following through on their word, I decided that any man who flies across the country for the sole purpose of meeting me is worth giving a chance). Confession… I fell in love. Jamie is one of the most kind, intelligent, funny, handsome men I’ve ever had the privilege of dating. Sure he lives 800 miles away (for now), but in our technologically advanced, increasingly digital world, feeling connected has never been easier. We may have forgone dates at the drive-in for sharing videos on YouTube, and playing a game of Words with Friends instead of a game of Scrabble — but the sentiment remains. Confession… I’m signing off. As I wrap up my time in mid-Michigan I say goodbye to many things, including this column. Though I’m sure my relationship with a certain southern gentleman will yield a desirable amount of content for a bi-monthly article, I will be documenting it elsewhere. Wish me luck — in Atlanta, in life and in love.