In my college years I met a wonderful man. We’ll call him James.
He struggled with drinking, as most college boys do, but he exemplified the smartest and sexiest man I’d ever known. My 20-something self wanted to marry him in spite of his drawbacks.
My mother and grandmother supported the coupling but for different reasons. For my mother, I feel it was a bit of a check mark – yes, I’ll finally get my youngest daughter married. For my grandmother it reflected a more romantic and basic idea. Continue reading
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