I was 16 about to turn 17 when I went to America on a school exchange trip in the spring of 1986. I was a student at an all-male school in England, so I knew very few girls of my own age and found them maddening difficult to talk to.
At my temporary home in Connecticut, I was the guest of a family who were exceedingly friendly and generous. One weekend they invited me to join them at a country club in upstate New York in what was once called the Borsch Belt. I had little idea of what to expect but I had brought swimming trunks to make sure that I got some excercise.
And there, in the pool, I met her. She was so unlike anyone else - She approached me and told me how to swim better. Ah what a breath of fresh air! I was quickly smitten and leaving her was heartbreaking. The next day back at that Connecticut high school was my 17th birthday but I struggle to smile.
I returned to Britain and was instanly depressed. For years I dreamed of finding her house in Staten Island but it was four years before I went back to the US. We did meet again and of course we got on fine.
We corresponded from time to time with the occasional letter. We met up a few times during the 1990s and on one trip went skiing in Colorado. Over time my feeling changed from one of adolescent infatuation to one of close friendship and so I was delighted when she told me that she had gotten engaged. I went to the wedding in 2002.
And now that there is instant messenger we can still keep in touch. Her husband writes to me too. I am happy for them both.
Recently she's downloaded Party Poker and sends me nail-biting reports on her progress in 1,000-runner $30 tournaments.
The girl who broke my heart when I was 16, whose separation from me by thousands of miles of ocean left me in a state of depression for four years, is now texting me her bad beat stories. Such is the weird path of life and I wouldn't have it any other way.
_ DY
at 11:12 PM GMT
