I feel a little guilty getting nostalgic

When I was 24 I met a guy at a jazz party in a town 150 miles away. I ended up going back to his house with him (did I mention I was stupid when I was 24?) We just talked and talked until the sun came up. Exchanged numbers etc. He told me he was a writer and gave me his xanga site. He is an amazing writer and he wrote a couple of things about his one meeting with me that ended up getting published in a magazine.We kind of kept touch through this, but not really. Well August of that same year he called and said that he was in my town and I invited him over. That encounter was a little different than the first and we ended up sleeping together. I was so naive, we never talked again after that. Well today I was feeling nostalgic and just checked to see if he still had a xanga site. Well he does and he is still writing about me. It's just all so bizarre. What he wrote wasn't flattering, and it wasn't mean, it was honest. It was so honest and beautiful. I wish I could write well, and even though I am ashamed of my one-night stand I feel honored to be a muse. I feel lucky to inspire such honest beautiful words and to have a place in such a mind that can arrange phrases so gymnastically.