I was high on the spark between us and thrilled by the potential of what might be.
It was no laughing matter, but I didn't know that yet.
I know guys use the "I'm separated" line all the time.
I know people who are just separated are iffy potential partners on most occasions.
Messages that made me cry - frustrated, embarrassed tears that I did not want him to see after three months of dating - and made me question everything I thought I knew about this wonderful man. The letter sat on the table for an aching number of minutes before he removed it from sight. A slip of the tongue might bring them into conversation; an old photo album might cause an awkward moment; a song or film or poem might take us back to them.
I'd need to know and feel comfortable with my potential partner's emotional state. I've been the "separated guy" trying to date and I've gone out with women in that marital midgard and sometimes it's ended well, sometimes it hasn't.
They'd need to convince me that their relationship was truly over with no chance of running back into the ex's arms.
On our first date, and then our second, and our third, we skimmed the surface of our respective relationship histories and hinted at the baggage we both dragged behind us. I co-parent with a man who once loved me, then despised me, and is now what I would tentatively consider a friend.
Fairly light baggage, like a rucksack that slots neatly into the overhead compartment.