For me, this is ancient history, back before my second marriage more than two decades ago. Still, I get questioned about my deep past, and sometimes that has me looking at my previous romances and adventures collectively, rather than individually.

Here’s the latest take.

1. None of them were like my mother, as far as I can see. There are good reasons for that.
2. I was attracted to potential. As in “promise,” which was the original title of my novel now standing as Nearly Canaan.
3. I put them up on pedestal. Up there, beside mine.
4. Most were intelligent, though not always of a scholarly bent, as well as attractive.
5. I am having trouble seeing deep mutual interests. Spirituality, especially along Quaker lines, classical music, and literature are central pursuits of mine, and being with someone who shared even one of those felt like Eureka. Contradancing worked as a connector for several of them. But for the rest?
6. There are now questions of just exactly what I offered them. How often was I trying to be the white knight coming to their rescue?
7. They were all younger than me. (Not that I’d advise that.)
8. Were they all crazy, one way or another? That has been suggested. And, no, I don’t see myself as a victim.
9. Except for a couple of them, I doubt they’ve ever visited this blog or read anything else I’ve written in the years since we were together.
10. These things rarely end well. As in happily ever after.