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We spoke with Elke who says she first met Brent through social media ...
but the cyber-flirting escalated to the point where she decided to attend the USC-ND game in L.
They still look at each other with the unembarrassed adoration of a first crush. Rather than attempt to describe the men I’ve dated, allow me to list just a few of the reasons we broke up: another woman; his strong sense of thrift; a reverence for the Virgin Mary that took precedence over me; probably gay; a drink called the Zombie that must have contained an unusually blunt strain of truth serum; chronically misused vocabulary words (his); he simply “forgot” to pick me up for dinner one night; my impatience; my nagging; my general dislike of the Great Outdoors.
The rest of us — who spent any amount of time “out there” — got a bit damaged over the years. Our hearts were broken, and we had to learn to protect them. Dating at Notre Dame, of course, was absolutely no preparation for the real thing.
As far as men were concerned, I had the good fortune to be restricted by neither type nor taste.
I fell in love (truly, madly, deeply) more times than is strictly advised.
Near the end of my career as a single, I’d gotten so efficient that I could take one look at a guy and immediately know how long the relationship would last, what nonhygienic habit of his would drive me crazy, whether we’d fight more over money or his family, if my sobbing would be of the silently streaming or hiccupping variety, and if I’d have to change my phone number at the end of it all. I do wonder what my life would have been like if I’d met my husband when I was younger.