My marriage ended in divorce and an unpleasant division of property.
I’m not agreeing to an adventure like that again.
And besides, there are no perfect men. So I have a few.
With one, I dance; with another, I swim in the pool; with a third, I talk on the phone — and the fourth sings along with me in the shower.
There’s no place for a fifth in my life.
Or is there, after all?