Something like that happened to a girl I knew at college. She had a boyfriend, Alec Gorokhov: He wasn't much to look at. At the cottage, where they first met, she didn't even notice him at first, especially since he'd brought his girlfriend with him. They were all sitting around roasting meat and my friend Olga—a real go-getter who, to be blunt, never wastes any time—was sprawled out, sizing up these kids who'd gathered for the barbecue. Suddenly she felt someone's eyes on her. She looked over. It was Alec staring at her. Olga snorted—he was so skinny, ordinary-looking, his little nose red with cold. She had had a little to drink and went out through the garden gate for a walk to the lake. She soon heard someone trying to catch up with her and somehow she knew right away it was Alec scrambling after her.