Since I started writing this singles column many months ago, a number of readers noticed one crucial missing element: I never go on any dates.

So many factors could take the blame for this fact: Old ghosts or barely enough time to put my shoes on the right foot every morning.

And San Antonio, oh, yes, my dear Alamo City, you played a part, too.

Except for four years of college, I never lived anywhere else. I love my city, but just like I know where to find the good taquerías and which streets to avoid during Fiesta, I also get the sense I've met just about everybody in this area code and exhausted the romantic options.

When it comes to love, what part does location play? Could the creators of “Sex and the City” have set the series in any other place but New York City? Would “Casablanca” have worked not in an exotic Moroccan bar but, say, in the Arizona desert?

And if one time zone isn't working for you, can a change of scenery really change your luck?
I hope to find out.

I recently relocated to California's Bay Area, specifically, Berkeley. Already, this feels like a whole new ballgame. The Mexican restaurants serve burritos and not breakfast tacos; the groceries cost twice as much.

And on the bright side, there's a new sea of faces. They know nothing about who I am, and I know nothing about them, a scary scenario but also an exciting one.

I checked some of the dating posts in one of the Bay Area alternative magazines. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary: pretty, petite SHFs seek athletic SHMs; a full-figured single seeks partner who likes casinos; another longs for a man who only wants to have sex and drink beer. And I am still trying to figure out the ad posted by the ”stern black nuns” from the order of St. Dominadora looking for submissive repair man boy toys. What on earth could they mean?!

Sure, it's a mating jungle wherever you go.  But I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up back in San Antonio, living in a quaint house with a man I love, a precocious child or two and a cat. In fact, that's what I hope for one day, and I don't care how traditional and old-fashioned that sounds.
We will be a cool couple, who throws great parties and teaches our child to love really great music, OK?

But how can folks achieve the modern fairy tale unless they get out there — and I mean, way out there — and figure out what or who they really want first?

So here's my ad: SHF, wears glasses, curly hair, some neuroses, seeks SM with a good head on his shoulders and his feet on the ground. We'll figure out the rest as we go.