You, my dear, have exceeded your monthly quota of quotation marks 
But to answer your question:
The summer I was 15, a 14-year-old boy in my neighborhood (we’ll call him “M”) fell in love with me. He and I became friends first. We both had little sisters who became friends, and then we introduced our mothers to one another. It took me until the end of summer to realize M wanted to be more than just friends, and when he finally got enough courage to ask me to be his girlfriend, I agreed. We were very close, and spent a lot of time together, talking and engaging in quite a bit of heavy petting.
His mother disapproved of me. She suggested to M that I was “nice enough for puppy love, but I wouldn’t let you marry her.” At which point M, all of 15 years old, replied, “I have no intention of asking your permission.” Apparently his mom took him rather seriously, and forbade him to see me again - which of course is exactly the wrong thing to do. Our relationship took on a tragic air, which naturally made it all the more important to us. There was much strife in our respective families, and M and I defied everyone, determined to be together.
Eventually, I succumbed to pressure and officially broke it off. But, as our families were friendly, M and I kept ending up in the same places at the same time, and though I had other boyfriends, he had other girlfriends, whenever he and I were together, all bets were off. We could not stay away from one another for long. The relationship, such as it was, continued in that vein through our adolescence and well into his military career. When I was 22, M got a girl in Germany pregnant. His mother begged me to go to Germany and “get him away from her.” I was appalled. He married the girl, and a year later I met my husband.
On the day I gave birth to my daughter, the phone rang in my hospital room. It was M, and he wanted to wish me well. I went very nearly to pieces. Six months later, I was invited to his sister’s wedding. I left my husband at home; he left his wife in Germany. It was NOT a comfortable evening. The chemistry between us was palpable, not only to him and me, but to everyone in the room. I spent the entire evening avoiding his eye, and went home early.
For the next 14 years, he remained at the back of my brain and in a little, quiet piece of my heart. Last year, he looked me up and got in touch via email. I am not exaggerating a bit when I say seeing his name on the email made me break out in a cold sweat. We exchanged a few casual emails, and suddenly, we both realized that was once a heart-pounding romance had developed into a very affectionate, but completely platonic, friendship. We had a nice long email discussion about this phenomenon, and I’m happy to report that M and I are genuinely friends now, and there’s no more “chemistry”. This is a very good thing. I have a wonderful husband of 15 years who I love very much; M has a very nice wife of 16 years that HE loves very much.
A happy ending.
