My dears, the world of on-line dating is fraught with perils; only about 10% of the men can actually write, coherently and semi-grammatically, in any language. As Mr. Incredible is turning out to be not only all-too-human but a close carbon copy of certain aspects of my ex (oh dear, this does NOT auger well for my ability to escape my own patterns, or at least the men-who-love-women-so-much-they-find-it-impossible-to-say-no-to-a-whole-assortment pattern), I have given in and agreed to meet a Scotsman. I do always give high points for persistence.
Well, it's an old story (at least in my life) -- on the first date I discover he's in the category of more-married-than-he-thinks. How does this evidence itself? Hmmm. His children are very important to him (fine). He is living somewhere close by so as to spend as much time as possible with them (all the better). Well, in actuality, he is living with his wife (aha!) although they sleep in separate beds/rooms/floors/whatever, and it's been "over" or getting to be "over" for about two years now. There is something odd about me, I know, which is that very few men lie to me. Perhaps they sense that I just don't really care too much about following the rules. Still, I officially eschewed married men around 2006, though in reality my last encounter with that particular creature, a Mexican who was my one-and-only case of impotence, was somewhere around 2002. That was, I suppose, an extreme case, but extremes are often important to jolt one into a broader-picture questioning of what the hell one is playing at, anyway. At any rate, if the more-married-than-he-thinks part didn't kill it for me, I have to say that the phrase that he sent in his last Email (the title of this post) would have to do it. God save me!
I console myself with the certainty that I am, indeed, escaping my beautiful-bad-boy pattern. I was hardly going to be able to keep that up, after all, for much longer, because my looks are, as they must, beginning to fade. But my other, most problematic pattern, unfortunately, may be a Catch-22. If I cannot give up that high that comes from being with men capable of making a woman feel, at least for the particular moment they're present, that she is the single most captivating creature on the face of this earth, then I have to accept that there will continue to be trouble. Because the older these men get, the more history accrues to them, and that means more ex-girlfriends swirling around, desperate for just one more taste of the old magic. The key, at least from my perspective, is for these men to learn to say no. In fact, I'd venture to say that's the key to life, and so important for us, too, womyn. But, oh, it's so, so hard for men-who-love-women-so-much-they-find-it-impossible-to-say-no-to-a-whole-assortment!