For some reason my brain is taking a nostalgic trip and it involves the first guy I ever fell in love with (who returned some of those emotions - to what extent I couldn't tell you).

Oh, to be young and psychotic again. Maybe not. I don't know if he knew it, but I worshipped the ground he walked on. I dated him in college. His mom didn't like me though (BITCH!) (man, can I hold a grudge, or what?) so there was little chance of a happily ever after scenario. Plus the fact that I found out he cheated on me one summer so I did the normal, 21 year old thing: I slept with a friend of his. And I'm not going to talk about how that all turned out. Let's just say I pretty much got exactly what I deserved.

Holy cabbage soup, I was an idiot. I miss being that passionate, but then again I don't miss being led around by the wrong body parts. Everyone else I dated pretty much falls into the "what was I thinking?" category, except for this nice Jewish guy. I gave him up because I was going back to college, where the aboveforementioned light-of-my-life-who-will-soon-crush-my-heart was waiting.

After a really slimy experience with a yahoo from New York, I quit dating for a long time. Then I met my true light-of-my-life (hi, Jon!). Jon is honest (too much so), cute, and makes me laugh. What the heck else could you want in a partner?