Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs . . .

I went to a well-known private school in Pittsburgh from nursery school through tenth grade. And it wasn't until I got to high school that I had my first experience in coeducation. Of course, I cannot possibly describe for you what it was like to finally go to school with girls. It was glorious (cue: "Hallelujah Chorus"). But that's not the point of this post. One of the great objects of my burgeoning adolescent lust was a senior named Leigh. She had the most amazing body that I had ever seen in real life. Typical freshman boy lusting after a super hot senior who only dates the biggest jocks in school. Blah. Blah. Blah. As it turned out, I did get to know her (I was very convincing back then.), and we became friends, and I discovered that she was a really nice girl. Like, really nice. And she played for Jesus and all that. So, I guess you could say that my raging lust was somewhat dampened after I got to know her. But she was still a perfect unobtainable senior for me to enjoy the very sight of strolling, as she did, down the hallway in her corduroys. Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. It was 1983, and we weren't allowed to wear jeans to school. So, most of us wore Levi's corduroys, which were as close to wearing jeans as you could get. Well, the girls wore them, too. And some girls could really fill out a pair of Levi's corduroys. I think Leigh wore those Levi's corduroys better than anyone else in the school. At least that's how I've chosen to remember it now. So, anyway, all of this is exposition to the point of this post.

A couple of nights ago, I had a dream in which I found myself going down on Leigh.

In the morning, I was lying in bed thinking, and I was wondering, what ever happened to Leigh? And then I realized that thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, I could probably find out pretty easily. So, I did. I found her. Last night, I sent her a friend request with a little note. Today came her reply:

LEIGH: David, I'm not sure it was a good idea to accept your friend request - now you can see that the girl of your 9th grade dreams is now a frumpy, middle-aged mother of 7! :)
Dare I ask what, exactly, I was doing in your dreams of late? :)


So, I looked at one photo on her profile. Sadly, her description of herself was not off the mark. I was, I'm afraid to say, a little devastated. We're all in our 40s now. We're all middle-aged and frumpy. And a lot heavier than we were in high school. Including me. So, I wrote back:

DAVE: It's funny. Nobody calls me David except my parents and people from school. Anyway, I am so entertained by your profile photo now that I understand that you have seven children. That's really quite a lot, you know.

I didn't look at your photos. I'm not really much of a Facebooker. I only use it as needed. Like to find you. But perhaps I should just take your word for it that you're "now a frumpy, middle-aged mother of 7." You know, keep the fantasies intact and all that. And that's probably about all that I will dare to say regarding what, exactly, you were doing in my dreams.