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