This column is an apology to my poor boyfriend. Thanks to his tutelage, his boat and his unending patience for my thousands of questions, I have been fishing steadily and increasingly more competently over the past seven months.
Somewhere along the line, I got a little cocky. I laughed at him when he ran out of gas. I scoffed at his catfish catches as I brought in tiny trout after tiny trout. At least my spoils were edible!
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