Kristin

Kristin was at the bank. And I have got to say now, she is so very beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. I wasn't confident enough to ask her for any more than some financial transaction, much as my subconscious kept palming the back of my skull, come on and do it, you know you've got to, come on, do it now. I will. That's all I can say.

But I am skeptical that I ever could completely forget about Kate and what, for a brief time, she had meant to me. I don't want to leave her. I don't want to move past the thought that I could have enjoyed a long and happy life with her. There was so much in her for which I yearned and ached and had suffered long and unhappy years. But this becomes not about her now, but about all that is necessary to make my life not something for which I've toiled and regretted.

At this moment, I want only to find enough courage to ask Kristin on a date. But part of me believes I will wait too long, if I ever can do it at all. This is what is so advantageous about online dating. I can write out my solicitations, as that is what I excel at as a writer. But the online recipient will not know what it is like to be near my person. She will not embrace my laughing charm nor my attractive smile nor my gentle eyes that are sharp and not crafty nor my body that knows it is the enclosure for a beautiful heart. These and many things will be opaque to the online recipient. She will see only pretty words.

Nonetheless, with faith in some impossible task and belief in a fate I cannot yet see, I will ask Kristin. She deserves that. Perhaps she has waited as long as me.

John.