About a month ago I received a letter from a college fraternity brother of mine. I hadn’t seen Stan since graduation three years before. Stan was trying to get a group of us together to meet for the first football game of the season.
I was sitting in the dimly lit bar, nursing my whiskey on the rocks, when I saw her walk in. My blonde wife, dressed to the nines in a tight red dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, scanned the room with a confident smile.