County Fair Fumble
I was thirty-three at the time, and she was twenty-one. I met her at a Friday night dance that my friend suggested to me. We danced and talked for some weeks, and I finally asked her out. She said she would like to know me a little more, and I left it at that. The following week we were together again. At the close of the evening, she gave me here phone number before she left. We started dating here and there for a couple of months, and things seemed great. She was one of the nicest, most caring girls I had ever met, or so it seemed. She had recently broken up with her boyfriend. She said she liked older guys, so age was no problem. I guess I should have thought about her being on the rebound right there, but she did not seem like anything from the past bothered her. She didn't talk about her past boyfriends, which I know is not always the case with most girls. Our last date, and the last time I would ever go out with her again, ended at a county fair on a September evening. I could feel that something was wrong on the way to the fair. She acted like she never knew me. She left on her own a couple of times. We did not talk much the whole time we were there. Going back home was not much better. When we arrived back home, I asked what was wrong. She just said it was over, and that it was not anything I did. That it was all her. I tried to contact her afterwards, but never got anywhere. I thought about her for a long time, and sometimes wonder where she is today. I often wonder if I will ever see her again someday.
— Ben, 35