The one about that girl at Osco

In the spring of 1989, I sheepishly returned to the College of Arts and Sciences with hat in hand, begging for forgiveness for the nuclear wasteland of my first two semesters, and the subsequent years of minimum wage bullshit and the Meister Brau diet and living the Blutarsky lifestyle with the bare minimum amount of community college classes needed to stay eligible and avoid paying rent.

After copious amounts of bullshit, begging and armtwisting…

CAS: You know there are no lesbian sorority initiation rites worth skipping class for, right?
Me:  *fingers crossed* Yes
CAS:  You promise not to skip class for Love Boat reruns
Me:  *fingers crossed* Yes.
CAS:  You agree to double secret probation, where the first tall boy popped in class gets your ass booted out.  Again.
Me:  *fingers crossed* Of course.
CAS:  *fingers crossed* Welcome aboard.

I actually was serious.  I had enough $ (thanks Dad) for one geology class.  All I needed was a C to earn another semester, but I had bigger plans than that.

I needed to work full time.  Gas and insurance and beer and food don’t buy themselves.  There was no time for school and work AND girls.  One of these had to go, and the easiest one to take a pass on was women.  Chicks cost a lot of money and time, and the potential for any return on investment was unlikely at best, and even then, unlikely to conform to any established predictive method for timing, quantity or quality.

This worked well for about 6 weeks.  Friends and football and road trips to cottages in Dexter filled the void.  However, there was a girl named Laura at Osco.  Long curly hair and an ass that men would kill for.  Pretty eyes and smart and very personable.  I was almost sad that I was living the priest life, but i also knew that coming down off the mountain to chase this bird was futile.  There was no way I was jeopardizing school to joust at this windmill.

Then one day, she was working a register at the photo counter and I had to get something on a shelf in front of her.  I reached, she moved, and I brushed her ass with my hand.  Oh, that sweet, ripe ass. Awkward apologies ensued.  But that was it for the “no girls in school” rule.  I was awake again, and girls were a good thing after all.

Six months later I was dating my future exwife.  I in no way blame Laura.

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