I don’t remember exactly how we met—probably one of the dating sites I joined right after I separated from my first husband. I was mid-thirties at the time, raw and restless, craving something reckless and alive. He was older—mid-fifties maybe. Married. We both knew what this was. We agreed to meet halfway, behind a gas station. Not the sexiest location in the world, but discreet. Practical. I still remember the way my he...