I knew from the beginning that it was a bad idea to date Megan. It was three years ago. I had casually known her since she was an 18-year-old working at a fast food restaurant where I used to go.
By the time she got in touch with me and wanted to talk, she was 25. We met for dinner one night and she told me she had always been interested in me. She wanted to know if I’d be interested in dating her.
Megan isn’t anyone I would have ever pursued. She’s attractive and sweet. She has a wonderful heart. But she’s not the brightest person and her interests were very different from mine, to put it as nicely as I know how. She had also grown up among uneducated country people, so her accent and grammar were like fingernails on a chalkboard to me.
But I had been desperately trying to get over a woman who I couldn’t have, so I welcomed the opportunity for a distraction. I knew it was a bad idea — destined to go nowhere — but I agreed to try it.