Three Years Wasted on His Ex

Lance Simmons was a planner in the most extreme sense of the word.

When we'd hold hands, when we'd hug, even the exact date we'd sleep together — he entered it all into his calendar in advance and sent it to my phone.

If the date hadn't come, he wouldn't cross the line by so much as an inch.

Even in a tender moment, if I leaned in first, he'd frown and push me back.

"Frankie, it's not time yet."

I loved him, so I was willing to move at his pace.

Until that evening, on the very day his schedule said intimacy was supposed to happen, there came another knock at the door — Melanie Cobb, the…