A 6-foot tall, Italian-born, New York college-educated widower started chatting with me. His name was Samuel. We exchanged numbers, and for the next week, he called and texted me every day. I was so happy, I told my friends so they could help me analyze his texts. I found out that he was in the antiques business, that he had been to Kenya. So I asked about Maasai warriors, cows and ritual bloodletting. (That may not sound romantic, but I found it intriguing since I studied anthropology in college. Plus, anything was romantic in that accent.)