I was in my mid-30s and had recently emerged from a three-year marriage. While there had been a confluence of reasons for my divorce, it came down to deep cultural differences that neither of us were equipped to navigate. My ex-husband was a white, American ethnomusicologist who studied the musical traditions of West Africa, had converted to Islam and quit drinking early in our courtship. He spoke some French, was an Africaphile, and we had similar values, and yet none of that was enough to bridge our cultural gap.

So I was starting over, with my biological clock ticking, convinced that finding someone closer to my own cultural background was the key to a successful relationship.

I came across this new man’s profile on OkCupid by accident in my search for a Muslim man who did not drink alcohol. He was a white, atheist, divorced father who also happened to be a nondrinker.

Within two weeks, we spoke on the phone, which felt comfortable and strangely familiar. We agreed to meet a few days later. By then, I was struggling to reconcile my feelings with the elephant in the room: religion. How did I let myself go this far, knowing that we didn’t stand a chance? This was supposed to be a fresh start for me on more solid ground. I knew I shouldn’t indulge whatever this was turning into. It felt foolish and potentially sinful, yet I wanted to ride this a little longer.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5547504&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5231527",#47791071)