To know

I realized tonight that all most of you have heard of, if you read this site often (and pretty much I've figured out that there are 27 of you, and three of you know me in person) is how terrible my experiences with local women have been.

That's wrong.

I have known magic. I've known it many times.

Let me tell you about it, OK?

I've known a woman who loved her cats perhaps even more than I love mine.

I've known a woman who made me jealous every time she stepped on the dance floor with someone else.

I've known a woman with whom I could play flute duets.

I've known three women who had found the joy of female ejaculation.

I've known a woman who sang opera to me in a mall.

I've known a woman with whom I climbed a mountain.

I've known a woman with whom I laughed at otters and silently contemplated enormous trees.

I've known a woman who touched my hands in a more gentle and sensual way than I had ever known.

I've known a woman who could grill kale.

I've known a woman who knew the lyrics, in French, of Edith Piaf's recording of "C'Etait Une Histoire d'Amour," and could sing them.

I've known a woman who had rebuilt her Volvo.

I've known a woman in whose hands, eyes and ears were placed the safety of thousands of airline passengers every day.

I've known a woman who cried even harder than I did over the passing of my favorite cat.

I've known a woman who could crash on my Segway and still look elegant.

I've known a woman who could make me look good even when I felt uncomfortable.

I've known a woman who knew the lyrics to "Istanbul."

I've known three doctors, two Fulbright scholars and a Rhodes scholar.

I've known magic.

Often.

I want to know it again, and for all my life.