The evening began in Chicago at Bin 36, the wine bar that had become Kortney Peagram’s favorite retreat from her merciless workdays. There, over red wine and plates of hummus and pita, she met up with a college buddy in town on business. A portfolio manager at a consulting firm, Peagram, 28, crammed her schedule, leading management-training sessions, teaching at a local university and in her spare time prepping for a marathon. In quiet moments, her mind drifted to an upcoming European ski trip.
Peagram had just gone through a bitter breakup. On that winter night more than a year ago, unloading on an old friend felt good. A few glasses into the evening, her friend confessed that he worried his recent wedding had been a mistake. “I told him it was first-year-marriage syndrome,” Peagram says. She offered him some armchair psychoanalysis, and talk turned back to old times. “What did I do?” he asked. “Why didn’t we date? I just realized you are the one girl I always had fun with.”
Peagram blushed. To break up the awkwardness, she ordered another round. Before she knew it, they were kissing. “He went from friend to lover over intoxication,” she says. “I made a stupid judgment call.”
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