He was like a man starving to death while staring at the feast. Last night he’d decided there was no pretending for him anymore. He was going to mak... his mother fall in love with him.Now he’d just told his two closest friends. He was confiding in them again by telling them about his decision. He was alive with nervous energy, and his hands shook as he brushed them through his hair, agitated.“I can’t go on any other way, Forrest,” he went on, “I feel terrible all day, like my soul has just been. I declined to write about the ladies, my close friends, out of fear that I might be discovered. I was assured that if I didn’t give their true names, no one would know. Still. I was hesitant to write anything because, you know, ladies talk.Then one of our group members decided she would start chronicling our discussions, so to beat her to the punch, I decided I’d write down our stories, often retold with great excitement every Monday when we meet at a local Starbucks.There are five of us, Jane,. More

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