I told him engineers made terrible boyfriends.
We met in college when I was eighteen. He offered to split a cup of coffee with me. He had fifty cents. I had twenty.
« That’s not half, » I told him.
« I’m an engineering student. I can make the numbers work. »
I was studying literature. He claimed novels were naive things full of people who could solve their problems by speaking honestly.
I told him engineers made terrible boyfriends.
He proved me wrong for three years.
Everyone expected us to marry after graduation. We expected it too.
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