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My Head Hurts

But first, another random memory.
In high school I had a crush on M, a flute player. I must have blurted something like that out to her, she took it as a request for a date, and she chose for us to meet at a local park's tennis court. I had no idea how to play tennis, and it was a very meh date. Thinking back, the reason she chose tennis may have been that I used to keep a tennis racket in my locker, and on days when I didn't want to go straight home after school I would take it out and my excuse for being home late is I was playing tennis with my friend Sam Archer. Online class lists say there was no such person. I guess he was my Bunbury.

We never dated again, but when I went off to college, I wrote long romantic letters to her, way too many, way too often. I mentioned how I would like her to model for me (portrait photos) and she sent me a small framed copy of her class photo. Kind of missed the point. Eventually she would return to sender the letters unopened.

In high school, M had the hots for T,  a trombone player, and she confided in me that her plan was to get pregnant by him at the prom. He was engaged to someone, but M's plan was to lure him away for a few minutes on the excuse that she wanted a ride on his new Honda motorcycle. "You meet the nicest people on a Honda" was their marketing slogan at the time.

FF to a year later. I was home for the summer, walking up the block from the bus stop to the family castle, and there was M coming out of one of the small apartments across the street. She invited me in, and caught me up. Her nefarious plan went like clockwork, T gave her that motorcycle ride, then that other ride, and M spent the last 6 months in the home for wayward women up the street. T signed paternity papers and the baby was put up for adoption. She was sharing her apartment with R, who had escaped her guardian in Idaho twice in two years, pregnant each time. Unlike M, R loved having her picture taken, and I always had my camera with me back then. M left us alone to go shopping, and by the time she got back I had a roll of nudes of R and a roll in the hay as well. For the rest of the summer R would invite me over when M was away. M was not too pleased that we'd been intimate, because the reason R was living with M was on the theory that M would act as Big Sister and keep R out of trouble. By the end of the summer, R was sent back to Idaho, never to be heard from again.

Many years later M had gotten married and moved to Alaska. I have no idea where she is now, she was listed as "lost" on our 50th reunion email.

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