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Martha, more than three and a half years laterMarch 25, 2006 - 3:50 a.m.
I have been thinking about Martha. You all haven't heard about her, because she came before I ever wrote this here. Yes, I've been writing online since 1997, but I was careful not to write about her when it was important, because I was still married at the time. I adored Martha. Her writing was like no one I've ever known. Talking with her was elusive and tempting and taunting. We met. She was everything I imagined, and more. Lithe, beautiful, impish, serious, thoughtful. Making love with her was like making love to the wind. I actually woke up calling her name -- her first and middle names -- several times. At least once, this was embarrassing because I was sleeping next to Nancy in her brother's house in Indianapolis at Thanksgiving, 2002. It was OK, because on that same trip, I had taken Nancy to her lover's lair in Columbus, Ohio and waited while she gave him an amateurish blowjob. I was a more magnanimous guy then, in those days when I still imagined I had a marriage. But Martha... I remember her every touch, I remember every inch of her house. I remember cradling her little body in my arms as we listened to Eva Cassidy on her stereo. I remember Martha.
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