With my finger poised, I glanced in the rear-view mirror, examining my eyes, searching them for encouragement, for a sign that I was doing the right thing, but found only despondence. Taking a deep breath, I hit the button. The e-mail was sent and my marriage was over.

I lit a cigarette and coughed. It was ten years since I last smoked. The first time was at a disco. Michelle Fox had stolen a pack of Marlboro from her older brother. We smoked and covertly passed around a bottle of vodka, and when the party was over, after the doors had been locked and everyone had gone home, I lost my virginity to Paul Granger in the back seat of his mother's station wagon. There had been a lot of fumbling and apologies, alot of bumped heads, a little pain, but I had felt alive. Paul Granger, star rugby pl...

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