One month after dating Anger, we made love. After the panting and passion subsided, I lay on Anger's chest and asked him: "Anger, I am not a virgin. Will you still love me?" He stroked my messy hair, as if he were petting a cute little dog. "Fool, in this day and age, how can you ask such an old-fashioned question? What I care about is whether the two of us love each other." I happily jumped off the bed and pounced on him again: "Anger, I really, really love you."