College Tales: In Hot Pursuit


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In Hot Pursuit

Today we are going to talk about sex or the pursuit of the opposite sex.  And I don’t mean the mature pursuit.  I am thinking of the awkward bumbling pursuit people go through as adolescents.  And, I am specifically thinking of me.  Hmph!

My first years of university were spent at the University of Washington in Seattle.  I chose the University of Washington because I had never been to Washington and I had no family there.  Not the most sound selection process, but it worked for me.

How many students were there at that time I do not know, but there were many, many times more than at my high school which had 32 students in the graduating class.  And, among the many students was a smörgâsbord of girls.  It was wonderful!

Unfortunately, during my Freshman year I lived in the men’s dormitory with a roommate.  There were no coed dorms at that time.  And I had no car.  Dating was tough.

At this time around the campus coffee-houses with folk singers were popular and abundant.  We would gather for hours chatting and flirting while listening to some songstress sing about the logger who stirred his coffee with his thumb or other classics.

My self-image was such that I felt I should date older women, not the girls my same age.  I had my attention focused on a little blond gal who was a senior.  So I started taking her out and most of the time to a coffee-house.  We would be there for hours.

However, this never went anywhere.  I never even got a good night kiss.  I began to brood over this.  It became an obsession.  Finally, it came to a head.

One particular evening I said to myself,

 “If I don’t get a goodnight kiss tonight, I am never seeing her again”.

Mister Suave

chain smoker

Lighting her cigarette

We went to hear about  the logger who stirred his coffee with his thumb.  We sat at a darkened table to the side of the room.  My date was a chain smoker.  I was doing my best to be suave and I kept lighting her cigarette with the candle at our table.  It was in an empty straw basket Chianti bottle.  Each time she pulled out a cigarette I would lift the bottle, tip it and light her cigarette.  Eventually, after a couple of hours it was time to go home.

The Kiss

the kiss

the kiss

She lived up the hill in a women’s hotel.  As I walked her home I focused on getting the good night kiss.  She walked slightly ahead of me.  I increased the speed of my walk.  She walked a little faster.  I walked faster.  She walked faster.  Finally we were nearly sprinting.  As she reached the hotel entrance she jumped into the doorwell, pulling the screen door shut between us, and she said sweetly,

 “Good night.”

Well, you gotta know I was ticked off.  I stomped down the hill to my dorm thinking dark thoughts about her.  And renewing my decision to never see her again.  I never did.

In my room I sat at the edge of my bed.  As I looked down, I saw all over my lap white blotches of melted candle wax.  All over.

More to come


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About Thomas L. Tribby

Professional artist: painter, sculptor, print maker. Maintains a studio in West Palm Beach, Florida
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