Christy stepped through my back door two Julys ago. She walked into the house like she had climbed out of a poster in my high school bedroom. Past fashionably late, she had given me way too much time to sit and drink, and I knew it would be hard not to make an ass out of myself. By the time I was face to face with my favorite Redskins cheerleader, all I could muster was a shrugged shoulder handshake.