Her name was Wendy but I called her Heaven. She liked that. Her green eyes would light up and I would see the light of a perfect future shining out, washing over me, caressing me. Everything about her oval face was the way it ought to be: her small, slightly freckled nose turned up slightly, and her lips – what can I say about those lips? “Don’t tell your parents that I call you Heaven, okay? They might think I’m some kind of weirdo.” I could see that she understood completely. After a couple of dates, we started making out. I couldn’t believe what a good kisser she was. Soon it progressed to more advanced exploration. This is real love, I thought. I was beginning to get carried away. I forgot about my ostomy completely which, in retrospect, amazes me. Love can turn a person upside down. Our hands were exploring each other. I felt her fingers go down inside my shorts. “What’s this?” she exclaimed, pulling her hand away. My heart missed a beat. I tried to tell her what it was. “Eww,” she wheezed. My Heaven had turned to Hell. But all was not lost. The following month, I met the girl I’d marry. We just celebrated anniversary number fifty-two. Now that’s Heaven.
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