At least one little detail, however tiny it might be, that was wrong. How could he be so perfect, and yet have no 'Mrs Jordan' to spend his life with....Even the home-made cookies he offered me were perfect. I gradually became somewhat obsessed with the thought of tracking down his imperfection. He was too good to be true. Everything he did appeared so well-thought, trained, and controlled, a lot like the Shaolin monk who had practiced the same kick ten thousand times in order to master it to. It was becoming so thrilling to me. Then one day, while out on the boat, the sun was really hot. My wife and her brother and his girlfriend had jumped in to swim. I jumped in as well, but got back on the boat to grab a beer. As I riffled through the cooler, I glanced over to my mother in law to see her sunning herself on the back seat of the boat. She had her head laying back on the seat with a hat over her eyes to block the sun, and her legs parted. Then I saw it. Her bathing suit bottoms were. More

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