Hot Blog: ALLREALITYPASS ALL REALITY PASS called me on Friday, his thick accent just as charming over the phone as it was in person. I learned a little bit about him, he was twenty-three, grew up in a small town near Naples, came to the states as a student when he was eighteen, but decided to drop out of college to pursue career as a chef; a dream he was still striving towards as he worked as a waiter to support himself and save up enough money to pay for culinary school.
Ever word out of his mouth only fueled my crush. And that is what it was, the kind of infatuation I had when I was just a young girl, before my marriage, before my two kids, before my successful legal career, and before the divorce that had convinced me that I would never have those emotions again.
He insisted that I allow him to pick me up. In the seven years since my divorce I had become so jaded about dating that I had previously refused to let any man even know where I lived before we had been out at least a couple of times. But like all foolish young girls I threw caution to the wind and told him where he could pick me up at seven o'clock
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