They are beautiful, the son eating an ice cream cone, the young girl in overalls. is holding her up and she is grabbing his finger, and the finger is wearing a wedding ring. He believes that marriage is a path all men must travel at some point. wants to meet me, but he's not sure he can steal time away.
There are the ones who just want to meet to have sex; you can tell because their handles are direct and uncomplicated: Yours4Lust and Deep Passion Man.
They list measurements and ask for yours, as though it's merely a matter of fitting one puzzle piece into another. Instead, I respond to the thoughtful ones, whose tales might help answer my questions.
He knew he was smarter, but she was beautiful and kind, and that was enough for him then.
We talk about books, and he says his wife doesn't excite this part of his brain.
"This is about ." It's true that one of the first men I meet fits that profile perfectly. tells me he can't have the kind of sex he wants to have with his wife because she's unwilling, and, on some level, he doesn't want to do those sorts of things with her.
He complains that she performs oral sex as if it were a chore.
"I could never have this conversation with her," he says.
"She would start talking about the baby, or moving out of the city." She does not wear lingerie for him, like she used to. This man is somewhat detached, but also eager as a boy.
In between his kid's soccer game and a pizza party, B.* sends a picture of himself on a golf course.
Earlier, he sent 2,000 words on how he got into the game, the trips to California and Ireland, the way the clouds flood the greens at Galway Bay. The long puppyish emails, the condensation of an entire life into a few breathless paragraphs that allow him to retell the stories his wife has already heard.
It doesn't matter, because he says he can imagine my voice; he says he knows exactly what it must sound like.