He was a college freshman. The prior year (before I met him) he crashed his motorcycle. Luckily, the motorist who hit him stayed on the scene. My future BF was airlifted to a Boston hospital where he was in a coma and grave shape for awhile. Once he recovered, he won a few hundred thousand in insurance money, which enabled him to get a new car, pay for college, and not have to work. (And no more motorcycles!) We had a ball. I got a job as a waitress (then bartender) in a local Disco (it was 1980) which was more of a party than a job, and it paid well. We had a lot of friends stemming from the club, and life was good. I remember driving to Atlantic city with a gaggle of friends when the casinos opened. I started college that fall. Things were as carefree as you get.
What my parents didn’t realize was how miserable life was with them. My dad was cheating on my mom. My mom asked for a divorce, and rented another house, taking me and my childhood cats with her. Dad got a small house, too. The day after my graduation, my family home was sold. I was devastated. I got a truck and emptied the contents of my room, moved it to my BF’s and didn’t look back. I cried for days. Every moment I spent around my mom, she would mope about my dad. She was sorry she left him. She had hysterical crying fits, and would grab me, sobbing, and sink to the floor in a heap.