Sarah giggle dating

When I first met Miss Sarah, she was 18 years old but only a junior in high school.

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Gretchen and I dated many years ago here in Georgia and then we broke up. How very much better off I would be, but that is not what happened, and I have only myself to blame.

However, Gretchen was no longer a beauty queen and she definitely had no potential to be called a "trophy wife." She was the kind of woman who would prompt guys to say, 'well, I wouldn't kick her out of bed,' but, of course, there are not too many guys who will kick any woman out of bed when they need to get laid, so this isn't exactly glowing praise for Gretchen. When it became obvious that Gretchen would move back to Georgia to live with me, I jokingly told her daughter that I would address her as I would any Southern young lady and I hoped that she would aspire to adopt some Southern mannerisms and gentility.

With that explanation, I began to call her Miss Sarah and, from that day forward, I always called her Miss Sarah.

When someone dies, we tend to forget their flaws and frailties and too often the dearly departed is soon canonized under the authority of their survivors' faulty memories. We usually forget the good and remember only the bad, helping ourselves to detach and not mourn the loss of love.

But sometimes, particularly for melancholics, we forget the bad and remember only the good, and we are haunted by the memory of love lost, dogged by the unanswered question of what might have been.

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