KLMN

I knew a girl in high school, a long time ago.  Let's call her KLMN.  "The names have been changed to protect the innocent."

When I was fifteen, I was attracted to girls and wanted to have a girlfriend.  But I didn't have the courage to go out and get one.  The attractive, desirable girls had boys hovering all around them and I felt I wasn't good enough to win any.  So, why try?  I would only open myself up to rejection and humiliation.

And then along came KLMN.  Compared to other girls, she was very skinny.  And the glasses she wore didn't make her very attractive.  The custom in those days was for girls to sit and wait for boys to be the aggressor and come to them.  However, for girls like KLMN, the boys didn't come.

So, KLMN decided "if the mountain will not come to Muhammed,  then Muhammad must go to the mountain."  She chose me because she considered me to be good looking (I think) and intelligent.  The latter quality was important because she was very intelligent and would want someone similar to be her boyfriend.

KLMN acted in a manner so that I could not ignore her.  She made her presence felt.  When we had a class together, she would sit near me and engage me in conversation.  When I decided to take a school bus to an away football game, she came too and sat next to me.  When I went to visit my friend on Varick Street on the west side of Oswego, she (who lived on the east side) showed up, too.  Her interest in me was obvious.

In retrospect, I should have welcomed KLMN with open arms.  She was female and she would be all mine.  Good times ahead!  Plus no rejection and no humiliation!  But, I didn't see it that way.  What an idiot!

KLMN wasn't playing by the rules I was led to believe were tried and true.  I was supposed to be the pursuer, not the pursued.  How dare she treat me so.  Thus, we became like oil and water.  I remember some arguments we had:  the film Splendor in the Grass and the 1961 Notre Dame-Syracuse football game.

After chasing me for two years, she finally gave up and found another to be her boyfriend.  However, one night senior year I was walking down West Second Street and our paths crossed.  KLMN was dressed up for some occasion with makeup and looked great in high heel shoes and a brightly-colored, tight-fitting dress.  Maybe I made a mistake?

For a change, I'll let KLMN have the last word (which she wrote in my high school yearbook fifty-five years ago).  "After all is said & done, it's been lots of fun knowing you.  I'll never forget the fights we had in history, Latin, study hall, etc., etc.  Good luck always, be good & let's quit fighting.  OK?  I'm glad we're finally parting friends.  Bye bye."  

"P.S. I won't hold any grudges if you don't.  I hope you'll agree that high school days are the best days.  At least I think so."