Andy

Don’t ask me what my parents were thinking, because I cannot begin to imagine. He was 27 and divorced. I was 18. I know. It’s a head-scratcher. Anyway, we both worked at a fast-food joint. He was the boss (another morsel of inappropriateness).

My family loved him – a real Southern gentleman from an old established family, and a silky drawl that could charm the pants off any woman. And he did. You see, he was also a serial cheater. Talk about baptism by fire! My first “adult” relationship was with a man who not only dated immoderately (Tom cat-style), but he felt compelled to share details with me.

Finally I had an epiphany: I, not he, should be the person I was loving. Once I realized that, it was game over. I never looked back.