On the drive to his hotel room, I decided that Samuel would be my last husband.
It was April and I had finally started dating a guy that I liked, a handsome, well-adjusted gay fellow with a sense of humor. But he also lived forty-five minutes away, in the state capitol, so the weeks were sometimes a long stretch of anticipation. Even though I had a rule about not driving to visit a husband, Samuel was different, as gentlemanly as a mayor. And those rules? I think I broke every one.
Samuel lived in a small town three hours to the east of Louisville, where he taught at a Christian College. He’d emailed to ask me out for a drink. Looking back, I’m not sure why I opened myself to his advances. Do we ever completely know the triggers that allow people into our lives? He was in his fifties and
