Status Updates From Insider Dating

It’s so funny... how come in two light-reading books in a row, written like a decade apart, did I have to read about Double Stuf Oreos and some fantasmagorias about Rubik’s Cube in both. I have my hypothesis about it.
Some girls must simply attain the privileged ivory tower position of publisher’s pets and so on and so forth.

Ok. I’m reading what I’ve got at home. Now I have to practice reading fluidly in English after all the stop and go reading in French.

"How long has your sister been married?" I asked Mitch.
"Four years," he told me. "How long were you married?"
As if on cue, a bolt of lightning cut through the sky and lit up the living room. Mitch was watching me, waiting for an answer.
I waited for the room to go black again. Some things are just easier int he dark. Oral sex. Dancing with abandon. Flashlight tag. Explaining your failed marriage. "Two years."

I did it once, and once was enough. But that single act, the fifty-eight minutes I spent in a hotel room…with a man whose name I’ve blocked form my memory, wasn’t the reason we got divorced. My action was merely a reaction, a side effect, a side order—Would you like some careless extramarital sex to go with that disintegrating marriage? That’s what it was, extramarital sex. Not an affair.

We’re expected to remember our firsts. A first kiss. Our first day of school. The first time we considered the idea that maybe the presents under the Christmas tree had more to do with the locked closet in the basement than with a bearded man in a red suit. Firsts are supposed to open up a whole new world to us, to offer a sort of introduction to what lies ahead.

So far interesting concept having a database about guys to learn mor about them before you date them