It was husband #1's 20th birthday party. A mutual friend invited me, and I almost didn't go. I wanted to go, but I was at another party and was being guilt tripped into staying. After much whining, I left anyway, and I'm glad I did.
I ended up talking to people on the balcony, and when I went inside, the party was over. I saw the birthday boy, and told him I didn't bring him a birthday present, but that I probably could give him something. We shared our first kiss, and it was electric.
We dated through the rest of college, long distance when he finished up school, and I was working in Indiana, and then moved to the same city. We dated for 6 years before he proposed. Married a year later. Married for 21 months. He tucked me in one night, like he often did. I woke up the next morning, seeing his keys still in the apartment, when I knew he was supposed to be at work. I opened the bathroom door and found him. It was too late.
The worst day of my life.
And that's what brought me here.
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