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Twice-divorced.
I’m through with romance. Cancel J-Date.
Weeks later.
Email. “Friend of Dave’s.” My high school buddy.
She writes, “Are you interested in broadening the circle of friendship?”
I think, “Must have slept with Dave at Woodstock.”
“Sure, why not?”
She, Ottawa. Me, LA.
I figure we’ll never meet.
We’re writers.
We write.
300 pages of emails in 3 weeks.
“May I call you?”
“No,” she says. “My voice is too sexy.”
“Oh, well, my voice is also incredibly sexy. Best if we never speak.”
She flies to LA.
We speak.
June – married 15 years.
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