We'd stood in the rain to watch the fireworks, my girlfriend Linda and I, and it was perfect. It was Boston and it was the Fourth of July and even though it had poured buckets the whole time, everybody in the mob trying to get off the Esplanade was happy. Linda and I, we were happy. The crowd wasn't moving. There were too many people, a crush of more than a hundred thousand trying to cross a handful of pedestrian bridges off the island.
I was at a friend's birthday party at a bar when I saw my future boyfriend Brian from across the room, talking to the birthday boy. Brian was the type of guy I spent most of high school and college and my entire adult life pining after and never getting: slim, with dark hair and glasses, his jeans torn in all the best places. He had a beautiful mouth that was excitedly saying things I couldn't hear, but was making everyone around him laugh. If I had still been at my heaviest weight, I never would have approached Brian.
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