Mike, Mike and Mike

Men named Mike. I had to swear them off a long time ago.

In fact, had my husband's name been Mike instead of Walt, I would have turned down the first date. Really. It's that significant.

Mike #1
There is no trauma associated with Mike #1.
I only mention him because his name was, well, Mike.
We went to high school together. Hung out with the same group of friends. He was best friends with Joe, who eventually became my boyfriend. But Joe was dating Jennifer initially, and so Mike asked me to prom, and the four of us went together.
Mike's mom asked him to ask me what color my prom dress would be so they could plan accordingly.
I wore black. Not a popular color in 1987. But that's who I was.
So what did Mike do? He got a gray tux with a teal colored tie and cummerbund. We clashed horribly.
We danced to Lady in Red. He had never touched me before. I didn't actually know if he even liked me. We were just friends, really. Although I did kind of like him.
"Lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek..." (Red=black in this case)
By the end of the evening, I felt slightly smitten. Not overwhelmingly so, but smitten, nonetheless.
He drove me home... walked me to the front door... and shook my hand goodnight.
Shook my hand.
Shook my hand?

Mike #2
Quite a lot of trauma associated with Mike #2.
We worked together. I was in a committed relationship. But that didn't stop me from falling hard for Mike #2.
There was a ridiculous amount of chemistry between us. Like enter the same room and the temperature goes up 20 degrees kind of chemistry. Make eye contact and the rest of the world falls away kind of chemistry.
Craziness.
I tried to set him up with a couple different friends. We'd all go out together so I could introduce them, see what might happen... but it just drew us closer together. He was supposed to be interested in my friends. But he was interested in me.
On one of those nights, I drove him home. He invited me in. I should have said no. Instead, I said yes. He offered me a glass of water. We sat on the couch and sipped our bottles of water. And then he reached over and pulled me onto his lap. He slid his hand under my top and unhooked my bra. He kissed me. And kissed me some more. And kissed me for, I don't know, a very long time.
And then I went home.
And the guilt was torturous. And the infatuation I felt for him was torturous. I fell in love with him.
We never kissed again.
And he moved away.
I was heartbroken. I thought about him daily for 4 years. And then every other day for another 2 years. And then I accepted that it was truly over, this relationship that never had a beginning or a chance or a proper ending.
I can still picture him, as clear as day.

Mike #3
Mild sadness related to Mike #3.
When I was going through my divorce, while still living in Texas, I met Mike #2. During one of my visits to Michigan. He was friends with my friend's boyfriend.
On Halloween, I went to a nightclub with my friend and her boyfriend, and we ran into Mike #3.
I was dressed as a cow. 
He hung out with us a little, and then not. And then again.
We all went back to my friend's house and climbed in the hot tub. It was one of those chilly nights when it's really awesome to be in a hot tub. Warm water, crisp cold air. Heaven.
My friend and her boyfriend had had enough of the hot tub and excused themselves.
Mike #3 and I stayed in the hot tub half the night, talking. Just talking!
I learned that he had never had a professional massage before. As a massage therapist, this broke my heart.
The next day, I told my friend I wanted to go buy Mike #3 a gift certificate for a massage. So off we went. I flew home shortly after, and she gave him the gift about a week later.
She said he grinned from ear to ear.
I visited Michigan a few more times before moving there.
One night, he spent the night at my friend's. It was really late and I told him not to drive home. Said he could stay in my bed... in the guest room...
As soon as we got into bed, he drew an imaginary line down the middle and told me I couldn't cross that line.
I agreed.
I stayed on my side and he stayed on his side. And then he said, "Can I give you a kiss goodnight?"
And we crossed the imaginary line. But only for that kiss (and maybe a few more kisses).
He started calling me. It wasn't easy. He traveled for work, all over the country. I hadn't actually moved to Michigan yet. I had no business seeing anyone.
I saw him once more. We went out with other friends, and he hugged me... the longest hug anyone has ever given me.
My friend and her boyfriend broke up. And my contact with Mike #3 started to become further and farther apart. Until it just... stopped.
A few months later, when I actually moved to Michigan, I didn't call Mike #3. I don't even know if he was ever aware that I was living not more than 15 minutes from his house.

My middle name is Michelle. Had I been a boy, my mom tells me my name would have been Michael. Just something to mention.