A Good Cry
I just returned from a long walk and a good cry. You’ll think I’m foolish when I tell you why.
I joined eharmony.com two months ago, i admit somewhat sheepishly. Does it make me seem needy, I feared, when I know full well that I am. Lonely, too. Anyway, a good-looking man contacted me almost immediately, and we corresponded for a few months. He sounded lovely—a writer, formerly worked with disabled kids, about my age. Both of us looked forward to our first meeting in San Francisco for a walk in Golden Gate Park and a bite to eat. Then he read my book.
Last night he wrote that he no longer wanted a relationship with the widow of a saint. Both of us would be comparing him to Marsh, he said, and the pedestal this saint occupies was just too high for him to deal with.
I was stunned. Then crushed. More crushed than a couple months of emails with a stranger warranted. Ergo the tears, out on the walking trail. At the moment, back home, what I feel most keenly is disappointment—in this man’s lack of self-confidence; in the realization that other men will think the same.
They will be wrong, however. I didn’t see Marsh as a saint. I saw him as a nice, thoughtful guy, like lots of guys out there. He had his flaws; we had our fights (my children kid me that they will tell all in a sequel to my book).
My purpose, with both the Sweet Things List and the book, was not to ignore the negatives but rather to highlight the positives in Marsh and in our life. To show my appreciation for them. This is a good thing. I hope I get the chance to do it again with another nice guy. Marsh would want that for me, too.