I liked you from the moment I met you. When we started seeing each other eight months later, it was exciting and wonderful. I was enamored with you and very physically attracted to you. Even though you may not have realized it at the time, I actively pursued you. However, it did not take long for the first clue to the ultimate breakdown of our relationship to appear. That Saturday night in December 1994 when you first stayed over and we attempted to have sex--when I admitted that no, I hadn't slept with Allison, you immediately shut me out. Despite my genuine explanation that the reason I hadn't told you was sheer embarrassment over practically being a virgin, you accused me of lying to you and not being honest or trustworthy. You then alternately talked with me, pushed me away, had a temper tantrum about my "sheets pressing on your toes," furiously dressed to leave around 1 AM, etc., etc. I couldn’t understand why things had gone so suddenly and horribly wrong, and when I tried to talk with you all I encountered was a raging silence. The next morning we "made up" and it was okay or so I thought. Little did I know, but this sequence of events ("pull closer, push away, pull closer, push away") would turn out to be a blueprint of many of our interactions to come.