He was turning 31. I wasn't 20 yet. I wanted to do something special for his birthday. I had spent months planning it - long before I got myself mixed up with T. For his 30th, his friends had thrown him a big surprise party. I needed to out-do that. And as luck would have it, I could afford to do just that.

Ten years ago, my day started pretty early, considering I had no real work or life commitments. I was up at 8, and had my hair done by 10. I was so nervous - this would be the prom I never had.

Final arrangements with the limo driver were made that morning. Let me think... his name was Henri if I'm not mistaken. I picked up my floor length, hi-collared, green velvet, heart shaped back dress at the dry cleaners on the way back from my hair appointment. My makeup was professionally done around 2 that afternoon. The florist delivered the 5 dozen red roses I'd ordered just after 3. The Dom Perignon was chilling in the fridge. All I had to do was sit quietly, not muss my hair, and not break into a sweat for any reason. My cousin (the Madam) came over to keep me company till about 6, when she had to go home and open her phone lines. When she left, I snaked my legs into the fine silk stockings I had bought just for the occasion, slipped the dress over my perfect hair, spritzed myself with Perry Ellis... there was a knock at the door.

It was T. "You look... and smell... fantastic!" You know a man is secure in himself when he watches his girlfriend get ready for a formal date with another man. a man she had been in love with for over a year. A man she intended to marry. It was at this point in my life I began to learn to compartmentalize my heart. Some things are forever. Some are just for a moment. Neither is any more or less important that the other. Each have equal value. In some cases, the brief moments are more precious, because they are, after all, mere moments.

So there he was, laughing and smiling and telling me to have a good time. When the limo arrived, he helped me downstairs with the roses and the champagne. Strange boy. Unlike any I'd known before or since.

I had told Z I'd be picking him up around 7:30 at his place. When I arrived, he was sitting outside on the front step, waiting for my Sunfire. The look on his face when the limo pulled onto the street (it had to back onto his short cul-de-sac, or we wouldn't have been able to get out again) made the whole thing worthwhile. I rolled down my window, "Are you just going to sit there looking stunned, or are you getting in?"

We drank the Dom in the car. Dinner was venison at Chez Queue in the Vieux Port. I will always remember the dessert: Peach sherbert ice cream with raspberries and a tablespoon of warmed Grand Marnier. I have made this dessert from time to time since.

Next stop: The Casino de Montreal. I don't gamble. I'm afraid I would like it too much. However, I had planned this evening right down to the chips. When we walked in, I gave my name, and a cashier handed Z a velvet bag with $500 in chips. They were, of course, paid for well in advance. A couple of bottles of Moet et Chandon later, and Z barely breaking even, the night was over.

Things between us didn't last. They got very ugly within a couple of years. But tomorrow he turns 41, and I can't help but think back to that amazing evening with the limo, the hair, the food, the music... and Z.