And that's the dude I turned The Rock down for. But rather than wallowing in misery and regret, I became a slut. Not a slut in the numerical sense, though. Let's just say, I lost any sort of cautionary discretion when it came to sleeping with someone before really getting to know them. Yes, even less discretion than cohabiting with someone within weeks of meeting. Put it this way: if I knew your name and you made me "tingle"... I was down.
What a sobering thought to realize I might not have been the catch I thought I was. Especially since, by the time I met my husband, I was thirty years old and felt damn good about the person I had become. It was just seven years earlier I dared exercise my independence and free-will by mustering up the courage to move to NYC.
