Two years ago, I dated a medical doctor with a plane.

I loved flying over the mountains with Bill. Love seeing everything pressed below me like a map. I like the thrill of vertigo when the plane banked to turn, when the Earth tipped up alongside you - mountains and rivers reaching inside you and seizing your heart.

"I have good thoughts of our time together," Bill emailed two weeks ago. "I miss you." This started daily texting. Bill called me "sweetie" and "darling."

On our second date, I took Bill snowshoeing up to Lake Clara and Marion. He rented snowshoes as it was his first time. "Last winter, I snowshoed twice in the mountains near Blewett Pass," he said. "You inspired me. I'm going to buy snowshoes this summer."

"You're a great photographer," he said. "I love the photos you took from the plane that you sent me. I love your baking." He praised my "erudite lexicon," trying to butter me up.

He even sent me a dick pic. Ugh. Why do men think this appeals to women? To me it's immature, like little boys peeing in the snow and comparing their penis size.

"Are you dating anyone else?" I asked yesterday. Yes, Bill replied. "Do you love her?" I asked. "Yes, but our relationship lacks a certain passion," he said. Glad I asked.

That ended it for me. Disgusted, I deleted our texts. This morning sent him a kiss-off email:

Subject: Duplicitous and Unfaithful

Bill,

You're lucky I don't know your girlfriend. I'd have you by the short and curlies.

Kathleen

Haha! And he calls himself a Christian.