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May 18, 2004
You’d think that you’d remember your first time telling someone that you loved them – not your parents obviously, but the first love of your life. You’d think that baring your soul like that, risking the nakedness of emotional commitment, would be one of those defining moments of one’s life, remembered forever. But I don’t – I vividly remember my first kiss, my first break-up, my first blow-job, but I don’t remember telling Michelle that I loved her for the first time. When was it? How long had I known her? Did I say it first, or in guilty response to her?