The singles ad that reads, “Minimalist seeks woman,” says it all.

Another, “Intelligent NS/ND DWM HWP, 34 yo, Active, Attractive, $ecure seeking female complement for travel, sports, theater, movies,” sounds a little desperate in its passivity, even to those of us who can't figure out all the initials.

Two Seattle men I know who admit to placing singles classifieds talk as though they're genuinely puzzled about how to find good women. They ask each other advice and make fun of each other's ads. They're both good men, and I've seen them in relationships with good women they met in real life in the course of their work. But they dump the women, or (less often) the women dump them, and they go on looking, and placing ads, and wondering when it's all going to come together for them.

My advice is to wear a Rolex. Men, women and Rolexes go together, as I learned at a high-end jewelry store the other day. I had stopped in to chat with a woman I met a few years ago at one of those arranged dinners. You know the kind of dinner. A couple of couples get together, and the hostess thinks to invite a few single friends of hers, a man and a woman. They don't know each other ahead of time, so the dinner becomes something of an embarrassing blind date. We're all marriage brokers at heart. We know instinctively who should be with whom, and it looked to me like this new, tall, good-looking ambitious “couple” would soon be living happily ever after. Not.

I didn't pry into the particulars, but there had apparently been no magic that evening. The two hadn't seen each other since.

Maybe he should have been wearing a Rolex, as I was when I stopped by to chat the other day. It's an Oyster Perpetual DayDate, bought in Mexico for $30 U.S. I don't know why it was so cheap. It would have been a bargain at twice the price, with its eight diamonds and logo that says, “Superlative Chronometer Officially Certified.”

“That's a good fake,” my friend said. “You got a deal.”

Another saleswoman was attracted to the watch. As I said, men, women and Rolexes go together. She was impressed that it actually said “Rolex” on the face, and she liked its heft.

Jewelers know about stuff like heft. “They put lead in the back to add weight,” my friend said.

			Ever the saleswoman, she said, “Let me show you the real thing, the one yours is modeled after.” She opened a giant wall safe and produced the $20,000 version. There was no comparison, of course, as I could readily see once I put on my glasses. “We're not allowed to touch the fakes,” she said, “but you'd be surprised at the men who try to pass them off as real.” Was this a comment on men in general? She assured me that the fakes don't last, and men come to her for repairs. So there we were, talking about men again. It happens when you wear a Rolex. She said men buy them to punctuate landmarks in their lives, whether it's a big promotion, cutting a deal or landing a big fish, so to speak. A Rolex is an award to themselves. Rolex knows that about men. Once a man browses through the Rolexes, he's getting ready. He's working on his five-year plan, setting his sights, promoting his deals and picking out his reward.
	Mixed signals?

Somehow, and men are never sure just how this happens, the chat turned to relationships. My friend's link with a Seattle man was broken, and as she touched my arm, she asked, “`Do you know any available men?”

I do, in fact, those two guys in Seattle.

“No no,” she responded, quickly. “I’ve had it with high mileage romance. I want a man within a 30-mile radius.”

That kind of restriction sounds like nesting instinct to me, so I'm going to stay out of it. But if you're an available man, a 30-mile-radius kind of guy, and you know a thing or two about Rolexes, you might want to take a tour of the local jewelry stores and ask to see the real thing.

I should add that my wife has a fake Rolex too, so whatever else our relationship is built upon, we're equals in the watch department.

Separate but equal fake Rolexes