Three years ago, I was so much in love, I couldn’t even hold a real conversation with anyone. I could look at you, and it would appear as if we were holding a conversation.  I was probably nodding in the right places, but I likely wouldn’t have added much.  I wasn’t doing it on purpose.  If I knew you well enough, I’d probably let you in on my secret that I had absolutely no interest in pontificating on any deep subjects.  I couldn’t explain why though because I didn’t understand exactly what was happening at the time.  Understanding itself would...