In the movie "A Bronx Tale," the actors speak of having "three great ones" in your life, referring to three great women. The mobster, Sonny, played by Chazz Palminteri, dispenses advice to Calogero "C" Anello, played by Lillo Brancato. Yes, it's a mob movie, but I wonder how accurate Sonny was when he said you only get three great women in your life. I got four.

My first two were named Gloria, whose full names, for their protection, will remain anonymous. The first Gloria I actually never dated, but I liked her a lot. I liked her so much that I bought her a nice friendship ring, which I purchased for $12 from Lexington Jewelers, which my grandparents, Eli and Tina Mack owned prior to selling it to Bruce Cook.

I played third base for Lexington High School and my buddy Heyward Addy played shortstop. He asked me at practice one day if it was a pre-engagement ring. Are you kidding me? I have never even gone out with the girl. How do you get pre-engagement out of that? Our relationship was purely platonic. I was just a freshman and could not even drive, let alone date. So this Gloria was my first "great one" and I had not even formally taken her out.

My second "great one" was also named Gloria. I was a little more serious about this one. She was beautiful. I took her to the Senior Prom but our relationship never went far. I guess I was in over my head, to put it accurately. She was a foxy blonde who ended up marrying an equally good looking, foxy blonde. I still considered her a "great one" mainly because of the "forbidden fruit" premise, i.e. you really want what you can't have. Strike two for me.

I decided to shoot for a name change on the next great one and went for a wonderful girl named Mary, who lived 300 miles away in Jacksonville, Florida. Mary was a handful. She had more personality than five women put together and I suspect I was again out of my league.

Before our relationship had even progressed to a serious level, there was talk of marriage. Here I was fresh out of high school and not a penny to my name and marriage was being discussed. Like all long distance relationships, it was a strain to make it work. And like most boys caught in similar dilemmas, I cut and ran. Strike three.

By now my track record with women was blemished at best and downright embarrassing at worst. There were other girls I dated like Donna, Janet, Shirley and Megan along the way, but those relationships never quite blossomed either. And then one day I met Christine. My father's construction firm had been contracted by her father, Paul Thiel, to remodel their building, State Machinery at the corner of US 1 and I-26 in West Columbia. Our job was to gut the interior of the building and refurbish it.

It was there that I met and started dating a girl named Shirley, who was actively on the market for a husband. Not particularly being on the market myself, I burned that bridge as quickly as I could.

Christine worked part time for her father while going to nursing school at the University of South Carolina. She knew I was dating Shirley and initially wanted nothing to do with me. (Women and their unwritten rules!)

However, I knew I wanted to marry this girl named Christine the moment I met her. She was everything I was looking for in a woman, Catholic like me, pretty unlike me and very smart, also unlike me.

At first she wanted nothing to do with "the hired help" and would not go out with me, mainly because I dated her father's secretary, Shirley at the time. (God this is sounding like some kind of a soap opera). Still, I was convinced that she was the right person for me. I told one of my co-workers the first day I met her "I'm going to marry that woman."

Well, that marriage took place 32 years ago, and I more in love with her today that I ever was. When my high school football coach, J. W. Ingram, met her, his first comment was "Boy you've out run your punt coverage this time." I guess I did.

Christine was the great one that lasted, and is the mother of my three sons and the grandmother-to-be of Ashley Elizabeth Aun, who is due later this summer. I guess Sonny was wrong; you get four great ones, not three.