I am lying naked on her bed, a sense of dull accomplishment somewhere between the sheets.

She has been sitting up on the bed for a while, it seems to me that she's trying to breathe through the awkwardness of our trials. I can't blame her. She just turned 26. I am going on 43. She may be quite unprepared for a man like me with two divorces in my bag, and a number of disrupted, unreforged relationships. But I want her. I have to make sure that she knows I am ready for the next step.

"You know, I feel close to you."

"Likewise," she says in a whisper.

"You touch my heart and take my breath away."

"Likewise," she says.

"You know, I haven't been lucky when it comes to relationships. I guess that's why I've grown somewhat fearful of them."

"Yeah, me too."

"I feel confident around you. For reasons I cannot fathom the fear is gone, and I want to get to spend more time with you."

"Yeah, me too," she says.

"I never thought I'd feel this way... Listen, I see you smile, for instance, and my heart feels at ease."

"Likewise."

"Sometimes I find myself thinking about you every waking hour, you know."

"Same here," she says.

"I also found that I am getting more creative in my writing, ideas for stories coming out more easily... It's like being in love, you know."

"Likewise."

There comes a time when you know you just have to change something in your life. I thought I was ready to make a change, but communication failed yet one more time. She is unable to give me the kind of rapport I am seeking. I know this after the comment she made on that morning when I was lying naked on her bed, a sense of dull accomplishment between the sheets.

"With you I feel manly."

"Me too," she said.

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