I was only 20, a junior in college at a large Midwestern university, when I met her. She was 22, a fifth year senior and had already been accepted to Law School. She was also one of the most beautiful and charismatic women on campus. At 5’4″ and 105 pounds, she had blonde hair, a killer smile, striking blue eyes, a tight little ass that made men pant, great fashion sense, and a flirtatious, intelligent personality.
She lived in one of the finer sorority houses on campus, but never came across like a sorority girl. On our first date, she simply invited me to the living room of her sorority house for a chat. When I took a seat on the white couch, she pulled out a chess board, set up all the pieces, looked up at me and said, “Black or White”. I chose black, replying “Ladies first…” This started off a wide ranging discussion of art, style, geopolitics, religion and many other subjects. Then I asked, “So Kit, do you always play chess with your dates?” She replied, “Yes, M, I do. I can tell a lot about a man when I play chess with them (as she winked at me in her sexy, flirtatious way).” Many moves later, I checkmated her.
This set off a torrid romance. Our lovemaking was like two passionate hungry beasts that clawed at each other and couldn’t get enough. When we weren’t fucking, we were cooking together. Food, fashion, shoes (Nine West), clothes, sex, music and great discussions were her joys. We enjoyed cooking in her new townhouse with its fabulous kitchen before we retired to more play on her giant waterbed.
But Kit also had some Daddy issues. Her mother was a local television personality famous for her kids show in the morning. Her father had divorced her mom, moved to a southern state, was a prominent attorney and dated a much younger playboy model. This caused Kit all kinds of angst and there were times where she would get very moody and started fading in and out on me. She would disappear for a month, then show up on my door, asking to be held. I would give her a bath and then fuck her all night.
We never thought of ourselves as boyfriend and girlfriend. We were lovers and intimates that eventually started fading apart. Part of it simply was our age difference. She was starting law school and I was still in college. I had dates with other women and she had occasional rendezvous’s with other men. But there were some wild things that happened that I simply felt crossed the line. A young man once chased me down in his car, cut me off and then pleaded with me to let him have a relationship with Kit. My reply was, “Who are you?” This kind of thing, along with her disappearances and reappearances, tested my patience many times.
One night, we had agreed that we would make dinner together at my place at 7 pm. I had purchased all the food, set the table and had the wine chilling. Seven o’clock came and went, then 8, then 9. I called but got no response. At ten, I was in a bit of a panic worried about her (she had some mild suicidal thoughts occasionally) and drove over to her townhouse. It was there that I discovered her in a compromising position with another man that I had seen previously.
Infuriated, I drove home, wrote the nastiest, most brutal letter I could write and put it in the mail to her, essentially saying that I never wanted to hear from her or see her ever again. I was angry and the intent of that letter was to hurt her in a way that she would never forget.
I was 21 at the time and I regretted that letter every day, every year, every decade afterward. Whatever she had done, I felt terrible about my willful intent to hurt her. It was a weight that I carried around within me and I deeply regretted my actions. She still meant so very much to me as someone that I had cared for deeply.
She had always told me that, after law school, that she wanted to move to the south to be near her father. After thirty years, I wanted to apologize. The hard part was that she had a very common last name when she was single and the university no longer had a record of where she had moved.
Finally, almost 30 years to the day from our first meeting, I found her on Facebook working as an attorney in a small town in the Carolina’s. She was just as beautiful as she was in college, had been married for 20 years, divorced and was recently remarried. I sent her a Facebook message and asked for a time to speak with her. She was very surprised to hear from me and agreed.
I called a few days later, heard the same voice that I knew so well thirty years ago and then I apologized. I apologized for writing the letter. I apologized for wanting to hurt her. And I did not ask for or expect an apology for her actions. We laughed a little, chatted about our lives, the great times we had together, the challenges and joys we had experienced and then I thanked her and said goodbye. And to this day, when I think about the women that have reached me at the deepest levels, the number is less than five and Kit will always be one of them.