When we met, he smiled, complimented my looks, took me to fine restaurants, took me dancing. He showed me off, flashing me on his arm like expensive cufflinks. He swept me off my feet, showered me with attention, overwhelmed me with the intensity of his desire for me. He told me how great and accomplished he was and how lucky I was to have him, marveled at the confluence of events in the universe that had brought us together. One month after the day we met he told me he loved me, and one month after that he proposed. Not so much proposed as began talking about how we would be married some day, as though it were the most natural assumption in the world, the inevitable result of our miraculous joining. He said that having a ceremony was almost redundant because we were already married in God’s eyes, yet it was urgent that we marry as soon as possible because the only way we could be together physically was within the sanctity of marriage, which was the only way he wanted his
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