"A touch of Paradise" was her favorite expression and, in many ways, that romance with her was. It was a classic case of first love - for me, at least. She was an older woman - eighteen, I think, to my seventeen - and her emotions were sturdier since she had endured several romances before me. Maybe my rockie heart was why the touch of heaven I felt with her, so often felt like a strangle hold. She was outgoing and popular; I was insecure and shy. She coyly commanded; I awkwardly obeyed. My worth was as a reflection of her. That's the way it is with first love I've since learned. She became manipulative; I became passive. It's hard to understand why they call it love.

Two memories stay with me from that first big romance. One is my great relief that we never made it to the altar as we had…