I am a 56-year-old woman and have been married for 30 years. We migrated to California in 1994. My husband, whom I met in my senior year in college, was my very first boyfriend. We were very intimate physically until I found out that his mother, a full-blooded Chinese, was very much against me. We cooled off for a while after college and I allowed an office mate to enter my life—fully knowing that I really hadn’t broken up with my first boyfriend. My office mate pursued me relentlessly. We were together everyday including meals. One thing led to another until we had a relationship. It got serious enough for him to propose marriage and for me to consider it. He was, after all, intelligent, romantic, refined. It was during this time that my first boyfriend returned to the picture and pursued me again. I chose him for sentimental reasons—like his being my first. We had four children, but our marriage failed. My husband couldn’t hold a job and that contributed to his sense of failure. My office mate also got married but we kept tabs on each other. When he became a widower four years ago, he sought me out.