If there are spiritual beings, I suspect that they are like Raphael's descriptions of angels in heaven which interfuse their bodies, and are basically making love all the time (that is what is meant by heaven after all). So the chances of them being attracted like moths to a candlelight are pretty slim. When you get to choose between Audrey Hepburn for breakfast, Great Garbo for lunch, and an evening with Sarah Bernhardt in her youth; or, if female, Cary Grant, Clark Gable, and Leslie Howard (slot in as appropriate)? No. So another alternative must be the ubiquitous and pernicious -- "am I worth it?" -- and my answer is, I am worth not lying to myself about what I am doing, it being Friday night, and everyone else in the world is living la vida loca. What is left? I think candlelight dinners for one must be the much more civilized female equivalent of the blow-up doll: the blow up romantic environment, complete with cardboard cutout of Omar Sharif.

yours, Peter T.