That night I tossed and turned as the memory of his face intruded on my every thought. I felt a burning in my stomach followed by nausea.
I knew that I was fighting my own resolve here. That ingrained sense of decency dictated that I not give into the new feelings that plagued me.
He belonged to someone else. But my heart didn't seem to care. It was almost pitiful the way I felt.
My girlfriends, some of whom had been allowed to date long before I was, because their parents lived in the new millennium and not the stone ages like mine did, were always full of stories of the ups and downs of their relationships. Not once do I recall any of them having this issue.
They'd all just seemed to pair off with their chosen beaux, though sometimes they might have been another interested party off
