Debbie Garafolo was a high school tennis star and head cheerleader, the object of every classmate’s lust and a girl destined for stardom.
But a funny thing happened to Debbie on that not so heavenly road. She attended Fairview State University, and there she found hundreds of girls just like her. Each was also a high school star, each was a prom queen, each had hordes of boys following them around.
“It’s just not fair,” she once confided in me. “I work hard, I try my best, yet I just never seem to make it to the top here in college.”
I was a friend. A guy, but first and foremost a friend. Debbie had been the object of my affections for more than two years. We shared a few sodas at the Silver Diner, a couple beers at the local pub, and even went to a couple matinees. We talked of failed romances, insensitive members of the opposite sex, teachers who would be better off retired and various and sundry problems of the world.
Most of the time we merely studied together or hung out. Heck, I had never even gotten to first base with her. A peck on the cheeks but never the lips.
Not that she was a virgin. She had been with guys and a few men in college. A couple relationships, a couple one-night stands. More recently she dated a few different guys, sashaying her five-foot, four-inch frame around town. She had a great figure, complete with luscious breasts that filled out her tops well, and a view of her backside encased in tight-fitting jeans was guaranteed to create hard ons as she came into view.
Her grades were good, she was going to graduate on schedule, but there was still something missing.
“I can’t believe I have never earned a varsity letter,” she pouted. “I’ve only played on the junior varsity tennis team, and I don’t think I will get my letter this spring either. And four years of junior varsity cheerleading doesn’t get me a big “F” either.”
I commiserated with her, stroked her ego by telling her she was beautiful and a fine athlete to boot. I told her the coach was a jerk for not using her in varsity matches, and that she was better than at least half of the girls on the varsity cheerleading team. But I could tell it had really gotten under her skin.
There was nothing I could do, but I still felt for her as that varsity letter was very important to her. Once I offered to steal one for her use, but she told me that if it wasn’t earned, it wasn’t hers.