There was a time. There was a time that the most attractive woman in the world was the one I just met. The waitress in the Italian restaurant with the gold hoop earrings. The secretary at the Law office who smelled of citrus and wore three inch heels. And roommates-yes, All of the roommates of various girlfriends. They were deserving of smiles, faked blushing and phone calls made when I knew the girlfriend would be out-all of that.

Flowers dropped off without a card? Of course. Scrawled poetry on bar coasters? Yes, often. And let's not forget the prerequisite "chance meeting in a parking lot at sunset" (Wow, that's something, isn't it? ).

But that was long ago.

the tragedy for the rakish romantic is that he can never be contented. The next cherry always looks sweeter than the last. Poor rake. arcanamundi

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