When I embark on a brand-new dating situation, I am a sucker for a snow job. The lastest budding relationship began with so much snow, it was practically a blizzard, and I was foolishly charmed by this delightful deluge: the thoughtful gifts, the jolly disposition, the wining and dining, all of it. However, the snow eventually melted, as snow does, and reality reared its ugly head. This bewitching suitor showed his true colors. The gifts dwindled, the temper erupted, and the wining and dining turned into dinner at my place, cooked by me. It's over. Since I'm no spring chicken, I should have known better. Lesson learned. Watch out for blizzards. They can be dangerous.