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Jenny and I had dated for 5 years before I pulled the pin, realising that circumstances had spoilt a happily-ever-after living-together relationship. We loved and cared for each other, and the sex and socialising had been great, but... I could explain, but, gentle reader, you and I are not here for explanations.

I had started dating other women, but had yet to finish off a business venture, and my work in that direction left me too short of time and money to be a carefree date. And the women I dated seemed weirder too - I'm not sure if that was because we were all another 7 years older (I prefer women my own age), or a statistical blip, but there seemed to be a general trend away from reality.

Perhaps the weirdest was Diane. After a first date the night before, when we necked in my car like teenagers (3rd base), we went for a long walk by the river the next morning, came back to my place, and fucked for the first time. She came under me for so long that I seriously started to wonder if she was having an epileptic seizure. Then she started to cry, and I asked why. "That was the best orgasm I have ever had, and my soul should be floating up to heaven, but it isn't, so we can't be together. Because every relationship involves fighting and so much pain that it is only bearable if the sex is wonderful. And if I have an orgasm like that then I should have floated up to heaven, but I didn't. I'm sorry, but I have to go." There are some obvious suggestions that can be made to a statement like that, and I made them. ...

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