Donald sighed deeply. I didn’t blame him. I felt the same way. I was hurt and confused about the pain I had caused him. But, I realized, I was hurt and confused about the pain Adrienne had caused me.

Our friendship, however brief it was, however false it may have been, was over. She had used me. My fleeting fantasy of having a sophisticated, modern, and mature relationship with Donald’s ex-fiancée was finished. I had failed in my mission to win her over, to outsmart her. What Fran had said that time was true: I wasn’t tough enough to handle the game I was playing. I had been in over my head the whole time.

In the hours and days that followed, I ate fistfuls of chocolate miniatures; took long drives through the streets of our neighborhood, thinking about what I’d done, how stupid I’d been. There was a perceptible, obvious chasm between Donald and me now. A line had been crossed—by me—and I was afraid that I’d done irreparable damage to him and to our relationship:

He didn’t trust me; he never would; our life together as we’d known it was truly over. For real this time.

But Donald being Donald—trusting, loving, forgiving—in a week he seemed willing to let it go. The following Sunday morning, as we had a late breakfast together in the kitchen he not only absolved me of guilt, shame, and malice aforethought and intent, but he dismissed the incident unilaterally, attributing my uncharacteristic behavior to pre-wedding insecurity.

Insecurity?

I hated to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I couldn’t help feeling that the word needed a bit of clarification.

“Insecurity,” he repeated, matter-of-factly. “About Adrienne.”

I nodded slowly, dubiously. I didn’t like the sound of this.

“In retrospect, I guess I can see why she made you so crazy.”

“And why was that?”

“Well, I mean, isn’t it obvious?” He waited for me to answer, but I didn’t. I was dying to hear what he would say next; how he would hang himself. “You thought if you befriended her she wouldn’t hurt you. She’s a force.”

Pause.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

Pause.

“A force to be dealt with.”

Pause.

“A force to be resisted.”

Oops.

“Resisted? As in temptation-wise?”

“Yes. She’s an extremely charismatic person. And she can be very seductive when she wants to be. A woman as beautiful as Adrienne knows she can get anything she wants.”

I’d just about had enough.

“Quit pussyfooting around, Donald,” I finally exploded. “Just say what you mean.”

“I am saying what I mean. For the past few months you’ve been obsessing about her, about her and me. All I’m saying is that I understand why she made you crazy.”