Back in January, I got an email from one of my high school boyfriends, Charles.  He had stumbled across my blog and had been reading it for a while.  Charles was definitely my first major boyfriend.  We dated for six months (an eternity in high school), despite being an ardent pacifist, he offered to defend me when some jerk cut off my little braid that I had (à la Aimee Mann circa her "Voices Carry" video) at a party, and he brought me my very own little Charlie Brown Christmas tree, leaving it outside my doorstep Christmas morning. 

After reading my jackass stories, Charles had some particularly fitting observations: "You taught me what the term "ménage à trois" meant, yet when presented with the opportunity declined.  Jackass #2 reminded me of our prom, where you may have been jackass #2."  It's true.  I kissed another guy at our prom, which, looking back, was a big mistake on many levels.  I lost a great boyfriend and hurt someone a great deal whom I cared about deeply. I can only defend myself by noting that I was seventeen at the time; my judgment has gotten much better since then.  And I truly hope that I got what was coming to me and that I have now paid off that karmic debt through Jackass #2 -- Charles made it clear that he doesn't hold a grudge.  Now, hopefully, the slate is clean.