The "her" in this instance isn't my current LL wife, but the woman immediately before her. Twenty years on and I still can't get her out of my head.

I met Michelle when we were both living overseas in North Africa. I didn't know that I would spend the next three years with her when we met, I only knew that I'd been dreaming of her since I was a child. As soon as we met, there was a spark, a recognition of a missing piece of my soul that had come back. She was dating someone else at the time, though that didn't last long. I waited until they were well and done, then I confessed my love to her.

It wasn't just a meet-and-fall-in-love, even though it kind of was. We spent a lot of time working together and, in the middle of nowhere before there was internet and cell phones and electricity everywhere, when we had down times we got to know each other well. Long talks, in-jokes, board games. We read to each other, we would draw together - we had a game we called half-a-picture where we'd each dray - you guessed it - half of a picture, then the other would complete it.

We were well and truly into each other when her boyfriend broke it off due to jealousy and distance. I don't blame him. But when we finally kissed, it was a kiss that I would not have minded the world ending on. When we fucked, it was the fucking of pure, unbridled passion. We never cared where we were, who could tell, who could hear or see, we just melted into each other.. A year together in Africa, then she went home, but came back to visit after I moved to another country. She stayed for six weeks, and those were six heavenly weeks. It wasn't just the sex, either. We fit together. Her head in the crook of my arm. My arm around her waist. Her joyous, enthusiastic hugs and kisses. The sweet, tender kisses on the forehead as we said goodnight. The words of love.

When she went back home, she moved from the midwest to the coast, to my home town, to start applying to graduate school. She was welcomed with open arms by my college friends, by my family. I came back home three months later and we moved in together.

She was the only person who was ever as ravenous about sex as I. She would initiate; I would initiate. She brought others into our bedroom and we both loved it. She got us tickets to the Exotic Erotic Ball in San Francisco where we twenty somethings screwed in front of other people who had come out to do the same. But still, it was more. We cooked together, made plans together. Went on dates, went dancing. It was a glorious time.

Then she started coming home, talking about this guy she met at work. "Cartman is kind of nice. I'm really impressed by his work." Little conversations like that over a few weeks. After a while it was about she and Cartman having dinner, hanging out at lunch, coming to dinner at our place.

I knew it was over. The light that sparked in her eyes when she spoke to me and about me was gone, except when she spoke about Cartman. I tried everything to hold on, long after I knew it was over. She had never broken up with anyone before in her years of serial monogamy, but I wasn't going to let her off the hook. If she wanted to leave, she would have to have the conversation with me.

It took a few weeks, but she eventually got up the courage to do it. In the end, it was what was best for her. She and Cartman got married, we drifted apart. Every few years I look at her life on social media - she still looks fantastic; three kids and years of marriage haven't taken anything from her.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her. In the past few years the thoughts have been fleeting, but still there.

I am glad I have the children I have; I am glad to have had the time with my wife, too. We are friends, good friends. I am not looking to leave her, not looking for a way out of this relationship -the relationship we have now works on all levels but the physically intimate ones. She is asexual, though she has never said as much, it's become clear in the past few years. I am not & I will have to deal with it in my own way.

But, if I never had the experiences I had with Michelle, would I feel as sad as I do now?