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" I met the infamous India Barker for lunch today. My unrequited high school love. The girl that shattered my heart into a million pieces. I was so excited to see her, I had to rub one out before leaving the house. Just to take the nervous edge off.  We met at a caf\u00E9 in Little Italy. Later she joked it was just like that Billy Joel song about high-school sweethearts \u2015 &amp;quot;Bottle of red, bottle of white.\u2026&amp;quot; She looked exactly the same. Maybe a few pounds heavier, but her face was just as I remembered it on that steamy night in the car by the river.  And she still smelled like potpourri.  After a warm embrace we took our table by a window overlooking Mott Street.  &amp;quot;It is so great to see you again,&amp;quot; she said, ear to ear smile. I&amp;#039;d forgotten she had the most adorable dimples this side of the Hudson.  I quickly sized her up. Nice clothes. Nice hair and makeup. She had some money. No ring on the finger, though. Nice.  &amp;quot;So what have you been up to after all this time?&amp;quot; I asked.  &amp;quot;Where do you start when you haven&amp;#039;t seen someone for 15 to 20 years?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Let&amp;#039;s order a bottle of wine and start from the beginning,&amp;quot; I said.  India gave me her life story in 20 minutes: After high school, she went to college to become a nurse. She fell in love with a married patient and had an affair with him that destroyed his marriage. When they ended up together, the relationship only lasted a few months. &amp;quot;Turns out he was more in love with the fantasy of being with me, then actually being with me,&amp;quot; she said.  Disgraced, she left the hospital and left nursing. Then she pursued the career she&amp;#039;d always really dreamed about \u2015 being a veterinarian. &amp;quot;I figured this way I couldn&amp;#039;t fall in love with another patient.&amp;quot;  She was in school for years, paying her own way, working late-night shifts. And when she was 32, she finally earned her degree.  One of her early patients was a German Shepherd who was a rescue dog for the NYFD.  &amp;quot;A beam had fallen on his back and almost paralyzed him. I had to rehabilitate him for months, and started to become very close to his trainer. A fireman named Steve.&amp;quot;  The dog thrived under her care, and so did her relationship with this Steve character.  &amp;quot;We fell madly in love,&amp;quot; India said.  I forced a smile. You want to be happy for someone, you really do. But it&amp;#039;s hard when you&amp;#039;re unrequited love starts talking about the love of her life. At least it was hard until I found out what happened to Steve.  She said, &amp;quot;He died in the line of duty. It was a factory fire. He went into a back room to save a few workers. There was an explosion. Nobody came out alive.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m so sorry,&amp;quot; I said.  She nodded her head and held back the tears. &amp;quot;I told myself I wouldn&amp;#039;t tell this story. It always scares guys away.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s okay. I&amp;#039;m not scared.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I was carrying twins at the time of his death. Two beautiful boys. Bobby and Steve, Jr. They&amp;#039;re 4 years old now.&amp;quot;  She showed me some photos on her iPhone. Adorable kids. I told her my story, but it seemed anticlimactic after hers. Still, she was so sweet and gracious. Laughing at my corny jokes and, at least, pretending to be interested.  When we were done, she said, &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m so happy we found each other after all this time. I always felt bad about what happened to us. We were young, and I let my parents influence my thinking too much at that time.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;That&amp;#039;s all right. I can imagine they didn&amp;#039;t like me much after the incident by the river.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Oh, that wasn&amp;#039;t the issue. It was your mom.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Right. Of course. Wait, what?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Her and Principal Reed. They were very bothered by that situation, which, by the way, was none of their business. And certainly had nothing to do with you.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m sorry. I&amp;#039;m not following.&amp;quot;  India covered her mouth with her hand. &amp;quot;Oh my God. You don&amp;#039;t know.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Know what?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Nothing. Zach, it was nothing.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;What about my mom and Principal Reed?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I feel awful. Let&amp;#039;s change the subject.&amp;quot;  But the subject had been raised. And I needed answers.  Pronto. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/mens-perspective/a4505/diary-he-121508/>