As I watched my marriage unravel over the last couple of years, I considered the lifetime of lonely that was to follow. For more than a decade, I claimed that if something happened to Martin (never acknowledging that something might happen to the relationship), I wouldn't pursue another love interest. I figured I'd heard enough friends bark about what pains in the asses their husbands were, that in fact, all men were the same. Why bother getting another model of the same lemon?
Then several months of lifeless matrimony passed and I realized that I could probably put up with some pain-in-the-ass in exchange for an occasional reasonably-good-time and perhaps a now-and-then kiss or two. When I suggested to Martin that we date others because we were clearly not going to fix what we had, I figured I'd goof around a bit at the bars with my girlfriends, maybe meet a couple of fellows who would turn out to be just like all of the others, then burn out like my other single friends -- followed by the aforementioned lifetime of lonely.
But my script has been hijacked. Though the potential for long term singlehood will always exist, and I did meet more than a couple of slouches who confirmed my hypothesis, it seems I have found -- or have been found by -- someone who makes me beam so obviously that it can be heard over the phone. I want to shout from the rooftop that I am deliriously smitten and happy and grateful to know Wasabi. There are many reasons that I feel this way, but today he showed me a sweetness that I've never before known. And now that loud smile has made it all the way up to my slightly-damp eyes.