This summer, I’m leaving the Bay area for a few months to work on a project (okay, it's a start-up).While I am incredibly excited about what I am about to do, ands think it’s a good decision; aspects of this choice totally fill me with terror. You see, in the past I’ve been an escape artists of sorts, someone who (unconsciously) used work and travel and career momentum to put enough distance between myself and ambivalent relationships to make them bearable.

Okay, so there was a period of time—maybe a few years—where I was convinced I’d never meet someone I’d want to spend a large chunk of my life with. In love or not, paired or single, the possibility of connecting with someone I’d both want to live with and plan a future with seemed just really, uh, remote. After all, hadn’t I already been married for 10,000 years and been through all the bonding and the compromises? Why on earth would I ever want to go through the trouble of trying to do that again?

While most of us are inclined to decorate in red, pink, and white for Valentine's Day, M&M's offers a different perspective, saying that green is actually the color of love.

We were drinking coffee and eating pie, post- matinee performance of Madame Butterfly, when the man I am seeing leaned over the table and said, “Let me ask you something—When you broke up with your ex-husband, did you stop loving him? Did you tell yourself you had to stop loving him?”