Donald was the latest romantic casualty in my life — or maybe I was the victim. It was getting so I couldn’t tell anymore who was breaking up with whom. All I really knew was I’d been having a bad run with boyfriends and had a serious case of “love nausea.”

Men were just such trouble. Every awful cliché I’d heard guys say about girls seemed to be more true about them, as much as I hate to generalize. But I’d been exposed to such neediness, such bitchiness, with guys who started arguments for no reason and got jealous at the drop of a hat. You name it.

The whole thing had worn me out. So there I was in the waning days of a summer I’d hoped would be fun and frolicsome. Instead, the season had been a slog of unnecessarily tangled relationships. Yes, I’d gotten my... Read More