Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Curves.

He really is very cute, this young blond man. He re- minds me of a couple of captains and lieutenants from my early career days. Piercing blue eyes and a lethal smile.

The Long-Awaited Honest-to-God Secret to Being Happy

He wants to meet me for a drink sometime soon. He suggests a night before a particular day that just so happens to be his birthday. I don’t have my calendar in front   of me, so he tells me exactly when he was born—month, day, and year.

It’s  a  whoa  moment.   A  real,  you-better-sit-down- before-you-fall-down moment.

I remember  what  I was  doing  on  the  day  he  was born.

No, not starting first grade or being the flower girl in a  cousin’s  wedding. Nope.  I  was  in  college.  Eighteen years old, finishing summer quarter and one course short of being a college junior, and hanging out with a bunch of my musician  friends  while moving  into my new  apartment and still upset with my mom for reading my mail because I was all grown-up.

Like I said, he really is very cute, but I’m not going to accept his  offer. There’s just nothing  we have in common.


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