You approached me with a thumbs up and well-planned scam to sabotage my heart. That's how it can happen in a saloon, and it did four and a half years ago. I sat at a slot machine in the corner, hit three red sevens, and turned toward the bar. You left your seat and came to stand beside me as if to encourage my next win. You had a Madonna-like face and green eyes that could spot an easy mark. In a weak and generous moment I handed you my winnings, and we slept together that night. I knew that wasn't the way to love somebody, but I didn't know yet that you were a user in all senses of the word.