Last week's condom comment set off a firestorm of feedback, most of which centered on responsibility and self-protection and the like. For the record, women carrying condoms is still weird. But not weird enough to overlook the risk of herpes. Duh. So that's that.

But the notion of consequences fascinates us, especially the idea that if you threw caution to the wind, you would get what's coming to you. We asked ourselves if there actually might be a good time to throw caution to the wind. Is it ever OK to say "damn the consequences" and just do it – whatever "it" may be – just for the experience?

We decided that it is, or rather that it can be. Once upon a time, we were 20 years old and in something we called love. Our main squeeze was planning to run off to the Appalachian Mountains to pan for gold or something. Anyway, we knew from the start that we only had about six weeks with our main squeeze. So what do you think we did?

We made the most of those six weeks. And of course we were heartbroken when he left.

We barreled head-first toward a brick wall, and all we got was six weeks. But you know what? It was OK. But not in that "It's better to have love and lost ... " kind of way.

It was OK because we learned not to nag. We learned that it didn't really matter where he was that night or why he didn't call. We learned we didn't give a damn who that girl "friend" calling him was. It could have been the Heidi he was romancing on Appalachian MountainChicks.com for all we knew. We learned all that mattered was us.

Oddly enough, knowing the cards were stacked against us gave us more freedom to get into the guy – how he looked, how he laughed, what great hands he had. So we threw caution to the wind and had a helluva time, until the hurt sank in. And, before you ask, no matter how far in advance you know it's coming, the hurt still sinks in. Bad.

When the guy left, he said, "I thought it didn't matter where we were going, as long as we have a good time getting there." Talk about hurt sinking in. We cursed. We cried. We screamed. But now we get it. It's the details – not the big picture. The joy is the ride. That kind of thing.

We would have liked an easy lifetime with Mr. Appalachian, but to be honest, we kind of dig the scar that came from those six weeks.

Always follow your suspicions about trouble. But don't ignore your instincts about passion. Whirlwind romances don't happen from being careful.

Get Bridgette's ApplachianMountainChicks.com profile at brwilliams@quickdfw.com.