We are not exclusive. We are trusting and open with each other, and most of all we are very loving.”Marcie looked up at me with glassy tears in her ...yes, “I know. That’s why I want to spend time with you when you’re together.” She faltered, “Lisa does too, but I shouldn’t speak for her, but don’t count her out.”I gave Marcie a manly hug without going overboard. It seemed appropriate, and she seemed to not only accept it but also to like it. She put her head on my shoulder as she hugged back. I. At best they make mild jokes about it and shrug their shoulders.Women live in the present. They own it.They love to meet and talk — to weave a collective web that spreads in all directions. It is the fabric of the now. It sustains families, communities, workplaces, even whole cities. It is an intricate labyrinth. And they know their way instinctively.Men don't. They have no time to even see the web. That is why they get so easily caught in it, I guess. Women are sweet and beautiful spiders.. ” I couldn’t agree more, noticing, however, this is the first time she used the word boyfriend regarding me. ‘Are we an item?’ I think to myself. We both climb out of bed to start the day.That night at dinner Megan tells me how she met her mom for coffee. “I told her I have a problem, a boy problem. She was like ‘isn’t Ginny enough?’ I told her that it wasn’t that type of boy problem. I said I had met a nice man, who appears to be kind and gentle and is a real hunk. But I was unsure how he felt. Shelly came home to visit her family and a couple of my buddies told me that she had pulled a train out behind the country club while she was here. Just my damn luck that I was doing my two week training stint with the National Guard. Shelly came to town several more times over the next two years and something always seemed to take me away whenever she visited and someone always told me that she had taken part in a gangbang while she was here. I was so frustrated that I finally wrote her a.