The night we met I knew we were meant for each other, even though you were a little young for me. It was New Year’s Eve and you were wearing that little white number. It was revealing without being clingy – you carried it off with your chubby smile, your sweet laugh, and your winning, though somewhat naïve, outlook that made everyone love you the moment they set eyes on you.
You were as bubbly and forgiving as a first glass of champagne. I was ready to get serious, for real this time. You inspired me, made me feel young again, too. You were so forgiving in those days. Fast forward twelve months and you’re the one calling it quits? And it’s all MY fault?