I was barely twenty years old at the time and reveling in a sexual freedom I never knew could exist. A month prior I broke up with boyfriend number three, who was the first guy I ever slept with, and it’s sad but since Dan, I can’t even remember the kid’s face. I remember his name was Matthew and he sat next to me in an economics class, but his features have blurred with everyone else in my past. When I was at Evie’s that summer, though, my heart still hurt for him. Here in my bedroom, Dan’s arms around me, I can’t recall just why I was so torn up over the guy, but I remember the pain, the sleepless nights. Of all my relatives, only Aunt Evie noticed at the time. “You okay, Mike?” she asked, squeezing beside me on the porch swing.