Thirty-nine years.  That’s how long we would have been married.

That’s an enormous number. I’m not sure I have quite gotten my mind around it.  Of course, we have been divorced for twenty-five. That’s another big number.

It’s bigger, still, when I realize how old I’m getting, and when I have conversations with men friends and feel myself keeping them at arms length, looking askance at what might well be ordinary male behavior or perspective (Particularly Alpha Male doings) —

because the fact is, I don’t trust any more.  I’d like to.  I look at some of my men friends and I know they are good men.

But DH was also a “good man,” and look how that turned out.  If he could deceive so completely, how can I trust anyone?

I don’t.