After dating a separated yet married man who was in the throws of a bitter and nasty divorce for the last eight months, I decided to join an internet dating service. I struck up communication with an attractive doctor, or so it seemed from his photo. We chatted and arranged to meet for cocktails and hors devours at a restaurant. In his profile, he wrote he was divorced, a social drinker, and a man who did not smoke. I arrived around 8:30pm and, I must confess without sounding conceited, I'm a beautiful, slender, leggy, sexy, feminine woman with no baggage; quite a find in this world today. We met and he looked like he was 20 lbs. lighter than in his photo. We ordered cocktails and a plate of tidbits to munch on, and, in less than an hour, he had ordered his fifth martini, confessed to also being in the throws of a divorce, complained bitterly how his wife had wronged him, and confessed to being on self-prescribed Zoloft (a manic depressive drug, for those who don't know). About 40 minutes later, he opened a fresh pack of cigarettes and began chain smoking. I'm blond and evidently so was his wife. I guess the Zoloft, the martinis, and the reminder of his wife was just too much for him to cope with without cigarettes. I excused myself from the table, telephoned my Mom and asked her if it was okay just to leave him sitting there. She advised me that it was a great idea, and I went home. The following morning, I received a nasty email saying how rude I was for not staying for desert. -- Kimberly, 23