 As it might have been the last one I'd receive until I got married, that kiss pretty much felt like my swinging bachelorhood. In Yeshiva, I'd be the mysterious one with a past. For the rest of the summer, I couldn't pass a woman on the boardwalk without thinking that we should somehow be meeting in a kiss, that that's how life should really be. It turned walking along the boardwalk into a relentless drizzle of small but horrible disappointments.