I don't prefer mail order brides. I am practical. You are a pussy. You simple minded asshole. Career first.

Shakespeare pretty much had the love thing down. As I recall he wrote that "men have died, and worms have eaten them, but not for love." But he also had characters doing the most outrageous things for romantic love. Or as Joni Mitchell put it, "all romantics meet the same fate, they wind up cynical and drunk, and boring someone in some dark cafe."

So, to me fwtini is correct. And I truly salute her for speaking up in gaggle of romantics. The extreme passion phase of romantic love does not, cannot, last. And no matter what, each of us has the capacity to fall in love again. And generally one better listen to one's heart and to one's head. Love is grand, but so is a satisfying career. Love conquers a lot, but love does not in fact conquer all, and it is good to figure in some practicalities.

But Cary is right, too. There seems to be enough on the table to really go for it, in a brutally honest way. The short term pain may be greater, but long term the removal of any regrets about what you did from this point forward, seems well worth it.

Watch it with the acid or whatever else you are taking though. The profoundity of the drug experience can get confused with the profundity of the interpersonal experience. As Dylan said: "Those dreams is only inside your head."

My probability take from what I read is that this relationship is likely dead. But that does not change my thinking. If it is, you will know and you will get over it.

The problem with someone like Ben Dover is that he has no real insight, imagination or sensitivity when it comes to evaluating the human condition. He is indeed so lost and confused by the big scary world, he must put everything into catagories, or his entire fragile belief system will crash down on him. His beliefs are in fact so entwined with these bianries, these mutual exclusions, that any shift, any evdience that calls into question anything he believes will break him. So he clings. And he clings hard.

So, women are harpies, bitches, stealers, and whatever else he calls them. Though he never defines men, one must assume that by his definition, in opposition to women, they are hapless, easily manipulated, weak characters.

Truthfully, inside, Ben Dover is scared. What is he afraid of, you ask? He is afraid of women. He is afraid of real relationships because they constantly call his categories into question. They are more akin to meandering rivers than staid lakes. He may learn that through it all, though indeed a framework of socialization is imposed on all of us, every individual breaks and defies "the norm" and his precious categories. He is rattled. So he clings.

So he sits in his basement, looking up sites featuring mail-order brides from eastern europe and contemplates his future. Where will he go from the Salon forums? What will become of him?

He will cling. Through it all, he will cling.

one comes along every 15 minutes. Why practice self-flagellation over a woman? What a complete and utter waste. Career first, women a distant 2nd, 3rd, 4th or even further down.

You can't go there with a guarantee. Life doesn't work like that. Go there. See what's happening. See how you feel and how she feels. And just take it from there. You can get your PhD 6 months later. Big deal.

to get married, especially in the current climate which rewards women for being bitches and stealing. Why would I put myself in that position. Better to have sex in uncommitted situations.

ahh, youth!

won't marry.

Only one rule: never marry a Ben Dover.

That is both a foolish and utterly stupid assumption. The LW is pathetic who sorely needs to grow up.

Although I do not wish to take the wind out of the the sails of all you cynics, and although I agree with Cary's advice, I would like to point out that things sometimes do sort themselves out (at least if my experience is anything to go by).

In a nutshell, I was deeply in love with a young lady as my university studies came to an end. Neither of us could decide to follow the other. We went our own ways. Notwithstanding my regrets and feelings of lost love, I got married, had two kids, changed continents, but things didn't work out and a divorce ensued.

15 years after, as the divorce was going on, I took a plane, went to see the (not quite so young) lady in question, and we discovered we were still in love. She eventually moved to my side of the ocean in order that I may continue bringing up my older children.

So, when I read weary cynics' letters about life being tough and so on, I can only partly agree: they have clearly understood half the story. But they are missing the other half: things can sometimes work out. Of course, for things to work out in my case, a minimum amount of action and decisiveness was necessary: had I not taken the plane, or had I not been quite clear on the reasons for my visit when I met up with the (not quite so young) lady, then this story may not have taken quite such a romantic turn. And of course, it was an extremely long shot and I did not expect too much - I just hoped.

I therefore encourage the writer to go to see his lady : and, as Cary suggests, he should be prepared for the worst even as he hopes for the best...

either you are a fat cat lady or a guy who is a pussy. Which is it?

Thank you Bem Dover for responses that are equal parts hilarious and pathetic for oh so many reasons - not the least of which is the time it must have taken you to list out all of your sad little commandments for the marrying man. I know I should feel sorry for you, but it's just too funny!