Liz is a veteran of the war between the sexes, jaded. But when her best friend introduces her to a new man, she is amazed at her reaction to him.
How utterly ridiculous I felt myself to be at that moment. This was not at all like me, to think I was falling in love with some completely random dude that I'd just met, no matter how attractive he was. The very idea of falling in love was something that I didn't even think of anymore. In my mind, the high-flown, difficult and complicated concept of falling in love had been replaced by the simpler and much more straightforward idea of falling in bed.
Maybe it was just his looks, which were indeed fine. But past that, there was something else there, too, something unusual. Liz just sensed it, even though she couldn't have defined it if asked. He just seemed to radiate some kind of overall delight.
But then Liz has a nightmare, complete with antediluvian swamps and fiery Mayan temples and juicy skeletons.
My mind was suggesting that when something appeared too good to be true, it almost certainly was. It was suggesting that perhaps Mr. Right was not what he seemed, and what more apt portrayal than a literal skeleton in the closet?