Man… in college I was in the bedroom of a girl I had a crush on and didn’t take the hint. She’d invited me over to do homework together but never touched a book and took me to her bedroom. I still didn’t get the hint.
Hey some of us are meant to make lots and lots of babies with varied and sundry people. And spread lots and lots of STDs in the process.
And some of us (myself included) are not. Which is fine because babies are expensive, and gross. Now I’m sterile, I can have all the sex I want, and I only need to watch for the disease part
Met up at hers to study. Didn’t study much, but we chatted a lot.
She told me about how she was born with a birth defect (hips or tibias, I don’t recall now) and how fairly early her on as a baby she had surgery to correct it.
The surgeon made a point out of really doing a nice suture to make the scars as minimal as possible, for future “young lady” her.
She wasn’t shy about showing me, pulling down one side of her pants to show the pretty much invisible scar. “See??”
And I did nothing. Call it good manners, call it being shackled by the fear of self-doubt.
Geez. I just now remembered her full name. And it’s been more than 40 years now.
Man… in college I was in the bedroom of a girl I had a crush on and didn’t take the hint. She’d invited me over to do homework together but never touched a book and took me to her bedroom. I still didn’t get the hint.
Hey some of us are meant to make lots and lots of babies with varied and sundry people. And spread lots and lots of STDs in the process.
And some of us (myself included) are not. Which is fine because babies are expensive, and gross. Now I’m sterile, I can have all the sex I want, and I only need to watch for the disease part
Same/similar.
Met up at hers to study. Didn’t study much, but we chatted a lot.
She told me about how she was born with a birth defect (hips or tibias, I don’t recall now) and how fairly early her on as a baby she had surgery to correct it.
The surgeon made a point out of really doing a nice suture to make the scars as minimal as possible, for future “young lady” her.
She wasn’t shy about showing me, pulling down one side of her pants to show the pretty much invisible scar. “See??”
And I did nothing. Call it good manners, call it being shackled by the fear of self-doubt.
Geez. I just now remembered her full name. And it’s been more than 40 years now.