When I went back
to school in September,
I discovered that Jan's
parents were sending her to
another school some 30 miles away.
It may as well have been the moon. I
was unlikely to ever see Jan again.
I imagine I pined for Jan for awhile.
But those feelings are lost to me now.
I mainly remember the exhilarating
newness of 6th grade and the novelty
of life without an all consuming passion.
For the first time in two years, I was free.
The rapture of love was giving way to pre-pubescent
lust. My loins were awakening. And my flat-chested
and squealing female classmates couldn't compete
in my fantasies with the likes of Barbara Eden in
a harem outfit or the voluptuous (and naked)
strangers in contraband copies of Playboy.
Freed from the embarrassing burden of
love, I at last began to admit to friends
that I "liked girls."
"But none of the girls in our class,"
I was quick to add. "I prefer mature women."
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