I sincerely hope my husband and I die together in our sleep at some ripe old age, after we've savored every possible experience in our life together, in which case I will never again experience a first kiss, or any other exciting "first" with a lover. There are hundreds of reasons to love romance novels, but one of them is that these love stories give us the chance to relive the joy and buoyancy of all the "firsts" of love: The first time they meet, the first electric touch, the first kiss, the first fight, the first chance to forgive and forge deeper understandings. I have now been married 20 years, and while I still love my husband very much, the older I get, the more Valentine's Day seems to be for younger lovers. So another Valentine's Day is sneaking up on us, and I have to tell you, I'm feeling a little odd.
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