Do you remember Mr. Long Distance? Let me take you back to June: we shared countless text messages, a handful of phone calls and two summer sweet nights. At the finale of our second date, Mr. Long Distance announced, “I dig you – I’ll be in touch.” And then he disappeared. This past weekend he spotted me before I could prepare for our exchange. He swaggered over, grinned and offered a quasi-apology that lacked even the teensiest drop of sincerity. Mr. Long Distance defended his disappearance by reminding me that he drove two hours - in torrential rain – to take me to dinner. My so what expression prompted this charmer to add that he did not garner the gratification that one who drives two hours in a rainstorm ought to collect. My mouth gaped open and through clenched teeth I answered, “A second date is a bit early for that.” To which he responded, “Maybe you didn’t realize how hard it was raining.” I dreamed of rewarding Mr. Long Distance with a passionate kick to his satisfaction spot but I did not want to draw a crowd. Instead, I declined his bogus peace offering and booked it out of the bar. Often plagued by worry that I am perpetually single, I realize that life could always be worse. That sleazy impostor for one of the good guys could be my boyfriend. And I could not think of anything less satisfying than that.