Why is it that when we are searching for something we never seem to find it -- until it's the farthest thing from our mind?

Take the case of a friend of mine I will refer to as Ms. Europe.

While living in Miami, Ms. Europe dated many guys, was on Match.com and was always searching for the one. She enjoyed dating, meeting people and basking in the attention one gets from being taken to dinner or the movies.

But last month she had a career opportunity too good to pass up. She could work in Denmark and tour Europe on her time off. She had always dreamed of living and working abroad, figured it was best to do it while she was young and single, and her sense of adventure wouldn't let her pass this opportunity.

So a week after accepting the job, wouldn't you know it, he walks into the picture.

He is Mr. Serbian Prince, or at least a guy who could pass for one. He has dark skin, jet black hair, steely-blue eyes and always dresses sharp. Ms. Europe is a tall, sandstone blonde who is as Caucasian as Gov. Sarah Palin. So instantly there was an exotic connection.

The two met outside of Ms. Europe's apartment by pure chance. He was running through Coconut Grove and she was walking back from a quick trip to Fresh Market. They caught each other's eye, a conversation ensued and soon a first date was set.

Since then they've been on a whirlwind. Whenever the two are out, Ms. Europe swoons over him. Other friends of mine have noticed this as well, and the first thing that comes to mind is timing. Why, with a major move just a few weeks away, is she diving headfirst into the deep end of a relationship? She is about to move to Europe -- not Orlando. It's not like she can jump on a plane to see him on weekends.

And there is a reason he's a sharp, smooth guy: He has a touch of player in him. Last week, at one of Ms. Europe's many going-away parties, he showed up late and then whisked her away. What guy wouldn't stick around with someone who's about to move away -- there are plenty of parting gifts and goodie bags to collect before it's bon voyage.

We all seem to know how this is going to end. She will move to Europe, and instead of feeling adventurous with a tinge of sadness because she's leaving her friends, she'll be heartbroken because she has left her Serbian Prince. When she arrives, she will think of him constantly the first few weeks, calling him at odd hours, writing e-mails he can wake up to and setting up webcam chats.

All of the attention required to remain in contact with him will affect her work performance, which is always critical at the start of a new job. We fear she won't pass her probationary period and will wind up with her walking papers. By this point, the Serbian Prince would have pulled away because of the long distance and started to date others.

Ms. Europe will sink into a deep state of depression, sell brownies as a street vendor for a week, backpack through some parts of Europe for another 10 days and learn the beauty of hostels before deciding to move back to Miami, get her old job back and resurrect her profile on Match.com. The more I think about it, maybe she does know what she's doing.

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