CSotD: Semi-classic: Saturday Morning Breakfast Serial
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"Semi-Classic" in today's title means that this is actually yesterday's Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal but I'm on the road this morning and what with the time change and all, I figured being off by 24 or 25 or 23 or however the hell many hours it is wouldn't be taken amiss or even, perhaps, noticed if I hadn't just pointed it out.
Particularly if it were a funny cartoon, which I hereby declare this to be.
I'm astonishingly naive about this sort of thing. Or maybe I'm just too realistic and being hung up on the fact that I never knew any of this sort of thing to actually occur is robbing me of some good campus legends to laugh over.
I discovered at my 10th college reunion that, among some of my more macho classmates, I had carried a reputation for … um … success in romance … that was wildly undeserved, simply because I hung out at the coffeehouse over at the women's college and consequently had a lot of female friends.
Apparently, the guys had lied to each other to such an extent that they honestly believed that most guys who went out with a girl for pizza ended up having breakfast with her, too. Or maybe it was my guitar and long hair and too great a faith in all that free-love horsepucky that TIME Magazine kept prattling on about.
But, for whatever reason, they had grossly overestimated my pizza-to-pancakes conversion rate.
Which misunderstanding I quickly corrected.
Ha-ha. Just kidding.
Anyway, I don't know how often professors actually experience this kind of direct quid-pro-quo approach, and the young women I knew who were having affairs with professors were not, for the most part, having affairs with the actual professors from whom they took courses.
Which I realize doesn't exactly commend their judgment, older married men still being, after all, older married men. I'm not trying to host a debate over whether schtupping a guy to pass a course is better than having an affair with him thinking that he's going to divorce his wife and abandon his children for you.
And my own marriage only lasted 13 years, so I don't know the secret to keeping things going for half century, except that I've been in the homes of people who have been married that long and I didn't see any trapezes mounted on their bedroom ceilings.
In other words, I think this whole thing might be a joke.
Which theory would explain why I laft.
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