I have a story to tell you 

A couple of years after high school, I got excessively drunk one night (at a Christmas party I attended with my parents, no less) and had sex with a guy I had been friends with for many, many years.

I always liked talking to him. He saw me inside out – and if you know me at all, you know that’s how you win me. He was a friend in a group of friends. He dated one of my best friends for a long time. We never once even got close to kissing before (that I recall 30 years later). But that night we had some serious sex. And it was fun.

Did I mention he had a girlfriend? Yeah, he had a girlfriend. I didn’t know her. They started dating the summer before. She was in university somewhere else. We didn’t talk about her. Until he came back from spring break and said that she was pregnant and they were getting married.

My romantic brain had conjured up a fantasy about how he was going to come back from his trip home and tell me he loved me. Say that he dumped that other chick because the feelings we have for each other are real. 

Heart broken much? 

Yes, plenty, thank you. Excellent lesson. Excellent. And I added allowing myself to be vulnerable to my ever growing list of things I would never ever do again because they hurt too much. 

But here I am. It sucked for a little while. I survived it. 

I fully expect things will suck soon again. The situation is very similar, the feelings are pretty much the same. They can only go one way, right?

Hush.

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