I loved my husband beyond reason. So much so that somewhere along the way, I completely forgot to love myself. And you’re probably going to laugh—but I still love him. Not the man he became, but the one I believed he was. I love the strength of the love I once felt. Strangely enough, the further away he is, the more tender that love feels—almost like a ghost I still speak to.
“Pretty young, though not too young, divorced by choice and not in crisis, officially seeking… a sleeping partner. Ideally, one who snores just lightly—enough to harmonize with my own nighttime serenades—and who won’t bolt when I have 3 a.m. panic attacks about imaginary burglars or sudden existential dread. Oh, and those who make coffee first thing in the morning? You’ll go straight to the top of the list.”
Where did this sudden “ad” come from, you ask? Let me explain.
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