I met you in Montreal the summer after high school. We were both there to learn French, although somehow I got put into some sort of advanced class where half the students were Francophones, which I found kind of unfair. You were in a more normal class, so maybe you actually learned something. I lent you my jacket one night when you were cold and you somehow got blood on it... I don't really want to know. We spent our evenings hanging out at the 24-hour Second Cup and you were a great friend. Apparently you also hated your name, since I later learned that you changed it to something totally different - like Jennifer or some name like that.