Alphabet People - Letter A

“A” broke my heart. I met A through a married friend of mine. The married friend wanted to get with me, but I didn’t want to be “that guy” again. She hooked me up with her cousin, A. I was immediately attracted. A had naturally curly blonde hair, was tall and slender, and wore smart glasses. She also possessed a sarcastic wit and was flirty as hell. We met and had dinner and then she took me back to her place. I think I fell in love while we did a crossword puzzle at her dining room table. I know, it’s not the most stirring of romantic activities, nor was it a dirty dance mating ritual, but it worked. There was something about the proximity of our bodies, the leaning into each other, the banter, the teasing, and the thrill of getting the words right. I caught scents of her and I wanted to plunge into her neck. And then finally, we kissed. It started in the kitchen, rolled into the living room, and went on for hours. When we finally came up for air, the sun was rising. I had to leave. For the other coast. We attempted long distance, but it was tough. When I returned months later, she had already started a relationship with another, but she neglected to inform me of this. We spent an evening together where there was no kissing, which made no sense to me. “I want us to be friends,” A said. “I want to pick up where we left off,” I replied. She said, “We should work on being good friends first and have a good base.” I was dumbfounded, “That foundation was laid months ago. You were at the groundbreaking. Don’t you remember?”