When we did, my grand reveal was a pair of anxiously sweaty armpits.
Hers was a reminder of who was waiting at home for the woman I’d seduced via Wi-Fi—faint traces of two C-sections and the soft folds that, to my eye, resembled the outer shell of Batman’s suit.
As I’d said to a friend earlier that day, “If she’s not already in my bed, it’s too far to go.”Emotional distance has always gotten the better of me, so my friend, a couples’ therapist, suggested I try online dating.
The safety of not having to meet a person in real life, she said, might lead me to speak more honestly about myself.
It had taken months just to bring myself to delete her girl’s birthday alert on my calendar. B and I traveled back and forth eight times, and, two years later, we got married.