When you're reuniting with childhood friends or meeting “eligible” men, there is always the underlying question: What is WRONG with you?
Without washing the tears off my face, I rushed back down to the street and jumped in a cab. I needn’t have bothered with the erotic lingerie. It came off too quickly for him to notice. Xavier and I drank Champagne and ate moo shu pork naked in bed. I looked at the clock. It was 2 a.m. Thank God. Valentine’s Day was over.
Jim likes to joke that we never had a first date. I think we had something better. After all, how many ambitious career women in the 1980s get rescued by a bona fide knight in shining armor?
Ron Serrano was certainly not what my father had in mind when he thought about my marrying. I was a conventional middle-class Jewish girl, Ron the brown-skinned son of Mexican immigrants, raised Catholic.
Richard’s math class was the hour before mine; we shared the same room as well as the same instructor. One Valentine’s Day I found a note in my locker directing me to look out the window of the math class, where I would find my Valentine gift.