Driving home, listening to Counting Crows, I flash back to sitting on the guest bed in Jeremy's basement, listening to Stacey tell me how August and Everything After is the most amazing album and how Anna Begins will change your life. But I'm jumping ahead. I sometimes confuse the fact that most of the readers of this blog know about Dan with them knowing all of my 'romantic' history. When I was 14 I went to Germany for a gymnastics competition. While I was there I met an American boy from MA named Jeremy. We spent 10 days together, practically inseparable. He was the last person I spoke to before bed and the first upon waking up. It was my first infatuation, and although I'm sure puppy love is a more appropriate name, it was, nevertheless, as much love as I was capable of at the time. We stayed in touch, kept our letters to each other in a bound journal, he drove 15 hours to spend Thanksgiving with me, I arranged for a weekend with him tacked onto the end of a trip to visit my Aunt in Cambridge. It was on my second visit that the above anecdote occured. We had driven to Maine. Jeremy, his best friend Stacey, his girlfriend at the time (who's name escapes me), and I. An odd grouping, to say the least. Got home late, he crashed before work the next morning and Stacey and I shared the guest bed in the basement. So now Counting Crows always reminds me of her. Funny. Moreso than him. He called me, out of the blue, a few christmases ago. Was living in Utah with his fiancee. That's the last I heard.