We’d gone on a few tentative dates at the end of high school and kept in touch. I was her first kiss, in college, in front of her childhood friend’s house, the address of which was briefly a password of mine. It was my birthday. That summer we would tipsily smooch a bit at a party, but maybe she was trying to make out with Michael, to her right, too (or instead?), as we all talked about Weezer albums? For whatever reason, I can’t forget her home phone number which hasn’t been useful in 20 years.
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Editor’s note: Registration is open for My Favorite Breakup’s third anniversary party and breakup story slam. We’re two-thirds sold out (!!!) so if you want to come, grab your ticket soon. It’s on Feb. 15 in Philadelphia. I can’t wait to see you. -jz