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James the boat builder drove me home that February morning, skidding a few times on the black ice of the highway.I kissed him goodbye on the doorstep, fairly certain I would not be seeing him again.How narrow was my own existence, I thought then, and how it continued to narrow by the day.But to go on dates with 86 different men is to gain as many windows on the world; it is to see one’s vast city and one’s vast self, if only for a few hours, through the eyes of a stranger one would never otherwise have met. 10, which found me at a Rhode Island pub on a February evening so brutally cold the authorities had advised us all to stay indoors. We drank the espresso martinis he had ordered and argued about welfare; we talked of fathers.
I would hardly suggest I lead a life to rival Cendrars’ own (my two cats have seen to that), but I had adventures.
When I was in my early 30s, my husband of four years, partner of nine, left abruptly in the middle of the night.
In the surreal weeks and months that followed, I grew increasingly apprehensive about the idea of online dating.
I think of old organic processes, of oceans tempered by rain, of mountains rent by wind and snow, when I think of my creeping disorientation as a wife, of how the self in wedlock can be worn away.
Perhaps that’s why, when I first went online, I was so susceptible to fantasy. Juan and I would move to Uruguay and raise his teenage daughters!