On matrimonial things on Valentine's Day

One time when I lived on the East Coast in my early 20s, I found a picture of two people and fell in love with it. It was taken in the '60s or '70s. They were dressed in white. They were getting married on a beach. They were barefoot and wore conch shell necklaces, I think. I had just gotten to the point where I said, "That's what I want!" to myself. Then my mom came in. I asked her about the picture. She told me it was a picture of her cousin and his wife. They had a daughter, then got divorced, and then the mother was killed in Las Vegas. I felt shock. I decided to go to the bookstore. This was during the Beltway sniper attacks. I drove to Borders and noticed that only one or two of the patrons dared to sit by the windows. For some reason, I ended up picking up a book about S & M, written by a woman. No joke. I wish I remembered the name of the book. I only remember that she said something about getting acquainted with Marquis de Sade because she had to get to know her enemies.