There was this girl who worked in the basement of the campus library, where they kept periodicals and microfiches. We were friends. I’d go there to study. One day she stood uncomfortably close to me and said that her birth control pill was messing with her hormones and she needed to get laid right away. I said no, you have a boyfriend.

We could have made love against the microfiche machines.

It’s been decades now, and I’m still kicking myself. I regret a lot of things I didn’t do in my life, and very few things that I did.