To pay my way through college I got a job as the night telephone operator at the University switchboard. The few calls that did come in were pretty interesting. The night watchmen, who called in every half hour from their rounds, loved to gossip about the spicy things they saw students doing down on the South Oval.

The downtown telephone operator, Pat, would call sometimes just to talk, one telephone operator to another. My predecessor at the switchboard had told me she might be calling, that she was very nice. She had a very sweet voice, and I conjured up all kinds of images as to what a beautiful girl she must be. Finally, one night I agreed to meet after work in a little grassy park at the edge of town. When I arrived she was already there, lying on her back on the grass. It was warm and she was wearing a very loose dress—she was slender, sandy blonde, very nice looking. We were already quite well acquainted from our many conversations, but I wasn’t prepared for things to happen so fast. In no time, she just kinda slipped under me and I was on top of her. Mind you, this was well before the sexual revolution of the ‘60s and my head was full of reservations, fears about venereal disease, fears about getting a girl pregnant and being responsible for her. She said, “Do you want to do it?” I really did want to since she was a very tempting morsel, and I made a little attempt, but with all my fears and mixed emotions I couldn’t do anything. She was very understanding.

As we started to leave, a taxi pulled up and drove us back, first me, and then her. The taxi driver knew her and wouldn’t let me pay. About a year later I heard that Pat had left her job to have a baby, out of wedlock. I felt kind of sad for her.

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