The years flew by and our group of fantastic females disintegrated. Some left Manhattan or began new lives that did not allow for the intimacy we’d shared as single women. As for me, I took a huge leap into the unknown at the eve of the millenium: I left my comfortable life in Manhattan for the foothills of the Himalayas in order to become a good Tibetan Buddhist. But that plan for enlightenment did not work out for a variety of reasons, and once again I found myself travelling here, there and everywhere, searching for that perfect home into which I could settle for the rest of my life, in order to focus on my creative and spiritual goals.
At one point, this search led me back into America, where I met a man whom I believed could evolve into the perfect mate for me. But soon I began to see ethical flaws in him that my rose-colored spectacles had initially masked.
While I myself am no masterpiece of humanity, I at least acknowledge that I am a work-in-progress composed of—relatively speaking—both good and bad; this fellow, however, hid his flaws beneath a million masks. As my vision cleared, I began to see a narcissistic and slippery man with no true respect for women and who suffered from the cardinal sin of emotional and material cheapness. Continue reading