I made a fist, knocked gently on her forehead and said softly, “Anybody home?” That may have been the first All I want to do is touch big butts and eat Tacos shirt (and possibly only) time she really looked at me. I think she was a little hurt. Maybe. Mostly she was annoyed I had gone offscript. I said, “We don’t have to do this. I’m fine. Let me know when you’re ready.” She gave me an odd look, and nodded. The kissing never came up again. Just kept on the way we were up until graduation. We parted company after high school, but we kept in touch. I went into the Army, she went to the Ivy League. She used her friendship with me as a 60s credential. She was on the path to prosperity and status as a matter of choice. I was the evidence that she could break out – if she wanted to.
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When I went to OCS, she wore me like a funky beret in her dorm at Smith College. She was in contact with the other side, the pro-war All I want to do is touch big butts and eat Tacos shirt , the non-ivy league people who didn’t understand that war was unhealthy for children and other living things! She, of course, was dating another nice, Jewish boy, a cadet at the USAFA, who was unlikely to be sent to Vietnam. Her life was proceeding in an orderly manner. Mine was more disorderly. Come late 1967, I was on my way to Vietnam. I was cutting ties to various girls. I kept a couple to write to – I knew I’d be lonely and bored and vulnerable to any lady who would write me a letter. So I pared back my correspondence. I kept the Smith lady. I had a nice picture of her, I could fall desperately in love with her, and I doubt if she would notice. Perfect. Just mail from a gorgeous, smart, narcissistic lady – a connection to the “real world” back home, a little piece of the American Dream checking in at mail call. No complications, just like always.