Since Harley just made herself emotionally vunerable, I thought that I'd share the following anecdote (in between a rather busy day at work):
During my senior year of high school I met and dated a guy I'll call Flyboy (because he was at the Air Force Academy, and is now a pilot). It was a whirlwind romance, we met over his winter break (I had aready been accepted to a college that was NOT located in Colorado Springs), had a great time for something like four days, and decided to make a go of it. The next three months were filled with emotional emails and letters (yes, I write love letters), and the occasional phone call. I know for a fact that he had my high school yearbook picture on his desk. At any rate, for the first, and only, time in my life I said "I love you" first, and he couldn't reciprocate. He freaked out, and we broke up two weeks later, a week before my birthday.
Flash forward four years.
I'm a senior in college, I have a better haircut, contacts instead of glasses, and have gained about 30 pounds, but in the "right" places. I am, however, clearly still the same person. During winter break I go over to the house of a good friend, only to find Flyboy sitting in the living room. We haven't spoken since the breakup, over which I cried. I try to play it cool, greet my friend, and say hi to Flyboy. He looks a bit confused, but says nothing. I figure that he is trying to do the same. Oh, no. About 10 minutes into the conversation he turns to me (in front of an audience of about 5 people) and says: "Hey, I don't think we've met, I'm Flyboy." I am SHOCKED. My response is: "Hey, I'm Annie, we dated." I have never seen anyone turn that red, either before or since. Nice to know that I was so memorable. *sigh*
And that is what I get for dating non-Jews.