Schmoopy

We met when I was eighteen. The first thing I noticed were his fingernails, trim and neat. Nicer than mine, by far, with my chipped nail polish and acrylic paint underneath them.

Funny, the way life surprises you. I'd always expected to be single for a long time. When I fell in love, I thought it would be with a lean, tall, dark man. Maybe someone who went to raves or had tribal tattoos. Not this guy with a big dorky smile and killer sense of humor and beautiful hands.

Anyway, my life as it is ...