may 1975, the lost years, Age 25 Celeste quits the RICE volleyball team

I continued to play on the Rice Chemistry Department Intramural team in May.  Two nights after I left Celeste at Phoney Baloney Dance Studio, I showed up for my usual Wednesday evening volleyball game at Rice.  I was not surprised when Celeste failed to appear.  Good riddance.  Lacking a replacement, we played 5 instead of 6 and discovered we were a much better team.  Addition by subtraction. 

When I first met my teammates, I had assumed the Chemistry Department had no chance.  However, once we started playing the other teams, I discovered the other graduate students at Rice were equally mediocre.  Why did I get the feeling that extreme intelligence and interest in sports was negatively correlated?  In their defense, I suppose Rice grad students were far too busy with study, career and research to actually care about volleyball.  To them, volleyball was recreation.  To me, it was life and death.

The upshot of this odd development was that I was the only person in the entire league with any serious volleyball skills.  I played with such ferocity that my astonished teammates soon learned to get out of my way and let me dominate.  My teammates no longer called me Rick, they called me 'Morlock'.  Theoretically this was a reference to Fred, my chemistry lab counterpart.  More likely it was their acknowledgement that I actually was a beast.  Appalled by my competitiveness, I am fairly certain my nickname was not a compliment. 

Nevertheless, they liked winning, so they let me play the way I wanted.  The Chemistry Department won the volleyball championship that year.  In the Land of the Blind, the one-eyed man is King.  In the Land of the Nerd, the one-eyed Morlock is King. 

may-June 1975, the lost years

THE RETURN OF PHOBIA

Left to guess, I suppose Celeste and Henry were dating before our lessons began.  How else do I explain their instant rapport?  This is conjecture, but I think Celeste persuaded me to take lessons as a way help Henry's job.  The idea would be to rope me into signing a contract.  However, given how poorly Henry treated me, obviously he took her help the wrong way.  I never did figure out Celeste's true objective during the contract negotiations.  Nor did I understand why Celeste felt the need to consistently put me down.

Spring 1975 was a very lonely time for me.  Manimal and the rupture of the Love Triangle removed my three best friends.  Lucy and Jill vaporized the moment I closed the door on Gay World.  I suppose I could have tracked them down.  However, truth be told, without the Farmhouse we had little in common.  Mark was still in mourning and preferred not to talk to me.  Seeing me reminded him too much of his terrible fate.  I said I understood and respected his wishes.  Consequently I did not have a single friend other than Gloria.  However, Gloria was not the nurturing type.  I would not dream of telling her my problems, so it was back to old times, me against the world. 

The humiliation I received courtesy of Celeste initiated a devastating new round of self-criticism.  Slipping into a blue funk, this was a time when I more or less just wandered around.  I went to work, accomplished little.  At night I played basketball or volleyball, went home, and felt sorry for myself.  Next day, same thing.  My life was going nowhere.  Welcome to the Lost Years.

The Phoney Baloney adventure was a major nightmare that rankled me no end.  Prior to the Ballroom fiasco, my Dance Project had been the one shining light in my life.  Given my previous success, I was flabbergasted by the extent of my problems with Ballroom.  The confidence I had gained from Freestyle dancing was totally erased.  Unfortunately, my self-esteem and feelings of attractiveness had become linked to my dancing.  It seemed like my confidence rose and fell based on my dancing fortunes.  Due to my struggles, I felt ugly and clumsy again.  

Thanks to Celeste, Phobia made a comeback.  I was furious at myself for standing there passively while Celeste made a fool of me with Henry's help.  Celeste was not the first woman to ever impose her will.  It felt like every woman I met ended up walking on me.  Emily, Carol, Connie Kill Shot, Vanessa, Christine, Debbie, Yolanda, Rachel, and now Celeste.  The list just kept growing.  I knew what my problem was.  I was afraid of confrontation.  I let Celeste push me around because I did not know how to stand up for myself. 

I never saw Celeste again.  This is a shame because I had several pointed questions I wanted answers to.  I was angry at Henry and Celeste, but most of all I was angry at myself over my poor performance.  Given how much I criticized myself, the irony is that my failure had more to do with Henry and Phoney Baloney's ridiculous training format.  Further down the road, I would discover Ballroom dancing is far too complex to expect a man to learn much using that useless ten minutes per dance format.  Furthermore, Henry and Celeste conspired to set me up.  Henry withheld valuable information about how to lead while Celeste cut me off at the knees with her stinging criticism.  In fact, I suspect she did it deliberately.  Given the circumstances, I never had a chance.  But how was I supposed to know that?  The only thing I knew was that I had been very clumsy.  No matter what I did, nothing worked in those three Ballroom lessons.  Blaming myself, I obsessed over my failure.

The deeper issue was the damage Celeste did to my self-esteem.  Here was a woman who laughed and smiled all the time, but it was a disguise.  It took me a while to catch on, but Celeste was deceitful and conniving in a truly sinister way.  Part of my problem was recognizing that these small put-downs had a cumulative effect.  I had never been around a woman quite like her before.  Celeste's ability to sugarcoat her covert hostility was downright lethal.  For a woman who claimed to be my friend, Celeste never missed a chance to cut me to shreds with her off-hand put-downs and inexplicable flirting with Henry.  In addition, her controlling behavior with Dance Director Dave aggravated me no end.  What bothered me most was letting her get away with it.  She enjoyed humiliating me, but since I let her do it, I was ashamed by my lack of assertiveness.  I did not even like this woman, so why let her push me around?  Why did I tolerate her flirting?  Why did I tolerate her rudeness over that idiot report card?  Why did I allow her to force me to participate in that meeting?  This woman had me spinning in every direction trying to figure her out.  Like Vanessa, my biggest mistake was not confronting her.  Oh well, too late now.

Looking back, I decided Celeste was another Karmic Test, a challenge I failed miserably.  So what message did Celeste deliver?  She taught me that I had no clue what to do once I found a girl.  I paid a heavy price for my lack of backbone.  Celeste also called my Dance Project into doubt.  It was depressing to spend all this time developing Dance as a way to interest a woman only to be shown how much more there was to learn.  With my confidence damaged, that awful fear of rejection kicked back in.  I refused to go to a dance club even though I knew I was a good Disco dancer.  What would be the point?  I could use my dance skills to get to First Base and maybe I could steal Second Base using my improved conversational skills.  However Third Base was out of the question.  Once Celeste renewed my feelings of inferiority, I was paralyzed with fear that I would screw up again with the next girl I met.  It seemed pointless to go searching for women until I got my confidence back.  Depressed out of my mind, I closed the curtain on my Dance Project again.  Or so I thought.  The history of the Lost Years reveals one common thread.  Every time I refused to do something, the Universe persuaded me otherwise.

mid-July 1975, the lost years the sundry school ballroom class

Following my Ballroom debacle involving Celeste, I did not dance for two months, May-June.  In late June I picked up a magazine listing classes at the Sundry School.  This was an adult education program affiliated with the University of Houston.  The Sundry School offered evening courses in topics such as Spanish, cooking, creative writing, art appreciation, and so on. 

As I leafed through the pages, I noticed a course in Ballroom Dance.  My problems with Ballroom Dancing still had me upset.  I had thought I was a pretty good dancer until Henry and Celeste convinced me otherwise.  For the life of me, I could not figure out why learning to dance gave me such fits.  Due to my problems with Tango, et al, I wasn't pleased to see my rosy opinion of those hard-won Disco skills contradicted.  I still cringed at the memory of Celeste's scream when I stepped on her foot. 

I thought long and hard about taking the Sundry School Ballroom class.  Lately I had begun to suspect I had been set up for failure by that jerk Henry.  A second Ballroom class might cast light on my suspicion.  I was also dimly clever enough to sense a Ballroom class might have single girls in it.  So I signed up.  It was time to quit feeling sorry for myself and try again.  And so the Dance Path resumed.

My six-week Introductory Ballroom class started in mid-July.  It was held on the University of Houston campus.  Jack was my new instructor.  He was 50, twice my age.  Jack was a pleasant, easy-going guy who was good at demonstrating the patterns.  Jack was easy to understand and I liked him a lot better than my nemesis Henry.  Only one problem.  Who was I going to dance with?

I got there early and stood by myself.  As I watched the students arrive, I was disappointed.  There were no dating prospects.  So much for my non-existent love life.  Yes, there were women in the class, but they either came with a partner or gravitated to men their own age.  Everyone was significantly older than me, somewhere between 35 and 70.  Not one woman bothered to consider me.  Once the 25 students paired up, it was 12 couples and me.  I was out of luck. 

I realized my status was likely due to my youth, but I felt rejected nonetheless.  These were not good times for me, so I took this reversal much too hard.  Assuming I had 'Ballroom Failure' invisibly tattooed on my forehead, no doubt the women knew they risked losing a foot if they chose me.  I strongly considered leaving, but decided to give the class a chance. 

Our first night covered Swing Dancing.  Jack and his lady partner Nancy put on a brief Swing dance exhibition.  Wow!  For an old guy, Jack could really dance.  I had never heard of Swing Dancing before, but I liked what I saw.  Jack said he liked to move his dance class pretty fast.  His class was only an hour long and Jack wanted to cover as much ground as possible.  I glanced at the Swing syllabus Jack handed out.  He intended to cover six different patterns in one hour.  Henry had covered three patterns in thirty minutes, so I guessed ten minutes per move was a standard teaching pace.  In reality, this pace was ridiculous.  Men simply do not learn that fast.  They can acquire a move in ten minutes, but they won't remember it one week later.   

Ten minutes after class started, the door opened.  When a pretty girl my age walked in, I had a heart attack.  There before me stood the prettiest girl I had seen since Rachel eight months ago.  Oh my goodness, I could not take my eyes off her.  It was love at first sight.  I was so excited I could hardly see straight.

My poor little heart did twenty flip-flops at the sight of her.  My eyes instantly shot to her hand.  No ring!  Oh my goodness.  What should I do?  Of course Phobia kicked in on the spot.  I was scared out of my wits.   My pulse raced as every demon in my troubled psyche arose to warn me this girl would surely hurt me.  Did I have the guts to pursue her?  Would she reject me?  Would she break my heart?  Would she dump me for someone else?  What if I stepped on her foot?

Typical me.  I was so insecure.  Every negative thought known to man had just crossed my mind and I had not even spoken to her yet.  How was I going to approach this girl?   So far she had not noticed me because I was out of sight behind two couples.   Well, she didn't have a partner, so this gave me an obvious opening.  Telling myself to calm down and act steady, I walked over and introduced myself.  The young lady smiled.  She shook my hand and said her name was Katie.  I promptly asked her to marry me.  No, but I wanted to.

Ah, fair Katie.  You are so beautiful.  Make that beyond beautiful.  I did not know why I felt this way, but it was probably her warmth.  From the moment I met her, Katie exuded kindness.

Katie was tall, maybe 5' 9".  Katie told me how glad she was that I was tall.  That would make it so much easier for her to dance with me.  Was our matching height enough reason to propose?  Katie was very graceful.  She carried herself like a model.  She was slender with long legs and a model's thin waist.  Katie wore some sort of vintage WW II dress that first night.  It looked good on her.  Mesmerized by her beauty, I had the biggest crush. 

Katie had brown eyes and light brown hair cut short.  She had a soft, kind face.  In sharp contrast to Celeste's sneaky vicious streak, there was a sincerity to this young lady that made me trust her immediately.  Due to her calm, gentle manner, Katie struck me as remarkably classy and decent.  I compared her to my past loves.  While Vanessa had been voluptuous beautiful and Rachel had been regal beautiful, Katie was down to earth beautiful.  Katie was approachable, easy to talk to.  I liked Katie.  I liked her a lot. 

Katie and I were a natural pair.  We were the 'Swing Kids'.  Although several men looked longingly in Katie's direction, I had no trouble keeping her as my dance partner.  Katie loved the Swing class and enjoyed my company.  She joked how nice it was not to worry about getting hit in the head by some short guy's arm.  I wisely did not mention her feet were in great danger.

All night long I worried about making a fool of myself.  I had really bombed out in my class with Celeste, but so far I was doing pretty well.  I had a knack for making Katie laugh.  I was pleased to see my sarcastic quips amused her.  Plus I was surprisingly good at this Swing Dancing, probably because I liked the music and the dance itself. 

At the end of the night, Katie said farewell.  Then she paused.  With a smile, she added, "I enjoyed meeting you, Rick.  I had fun tonight.  See you next week!" 

I did not know if I could wait that long. 

WEEK TWO: CHA CHA

Katie was The One, no doubt about it.  I spent the entire week daydreaming about her.  Loneliness will do that to a man.  I was not doing very well right now.  I was still angry at myself for my mysterious passivity with Celeste.  Why I had allowed that blabbermouth to walk over me was beyond understanding.  With my confidence at low ebb, Katie scared me to death.  What would I do to screw it up this time?  What new Blind Spot would appear to sabotage everything? 

My Rejection Phobia had me paralyzed from the start.  I had never wanted to ask a girl out as much as I did Katie, but how?  Where would I find the courage to risk rejection?  I spent hours thinking of ways to ask her out, but my fear was off the charts.  The strength of my feelings reminded me far too much of Rachel.  Something was bound to go wrong, I was sure of it.  For one thing, I kept expecting some guy would show up in Week Two at Katie's side.  Or perhaps Katie would announce she was seeing someone.  I was too scared to allow myself to hope.

To my undying relief, no man showed up at Katie's side in Week Two.  Katie was apparently taking this class by herself.  Furthermore Katie showed instant loyalty by walking straight over to me when she entered.  Okay!  Not bad.  No competition to speak of and Katie was happy to see me.  I had Katie's exclusive attention for tonight and probably for the next four classes if I played my cards right. 

I crossed my fingers and prayed Katie did not have a boyfriend.  If so, she never mentioned him.  Actually, Katie never mentioned anything.  I didn't know where she lived, what she did for a living, where she grew up, or where she had gone to college.  I did not know her last name, her astrology sign, or anything she was interested in.  Katie always came late and left quickly.  Since the class moved very fast, there was little time for useful 'get to know you' talk.

In Week Two, Jack taught six Cha Cha patterns.  Although I handled the new patterns well, I was curious why we didn't review last week's Swing moves.  I was so preoccupied with the fast pace of the Cha Cha class I quickly forgot about Swing.  I liked Cha Cha.  So did Katie.  What a neat dance!  Jack said not to worry too much about Cha Cha hip motion, but Katie seemed to figure it out on her own.  I had trouble breathing when she moved.

This was the night when Katie began to help me with my tendency to criticize myself.  If I had one word to describe Katie, it would be 'Kindness'.  Katie had a very light touch.  Whenever I had a problem with a move, Katie would try to explain what I had done wrong.  In a sense, she was criticizing me, but it didn't feel like criticism.  As we know from the Celeste experience, I do not handle criticism well, especially dance mistakes where I had a thin skin.  However, when Katie said something, it never hurt.  She never once said I had done something wrong, but rather it needed a little polish.  She obviously did not want to hurt my feelings.  Her tactful style felt more like she was offering suggestions. 

"Here, try this instead, Rick.  See if it works."

Katie was so smooth I wondered if she was a teacher of some sort.  So why not ask her?  I was tongue-tied around Katie.  Against my will, I found myself more attached than I had a right to be.  I was afraid I would not get to keep her.  How could a sweet girl like Katie possibly be unspoken for?  I envisioned an army of suitors.

Katie had the extraordinary ability to bypass my prickly nature like no woman I had ever met.  I was not afraid to make a mistake.  Katie would simply say, "Don't worry about it, Rick.  You are a beginner and beginners are supposed to make mistakes.  So stop apologizing.  Rather than beat yourself up all the time, just try again!" 

Katie certainly had the skill and patience to be a teacher.  Due to her gentle nature, I let Katie correct my mistakes without getting defensive.  Not once did I try to make an excuse or snap back at her.  Instead I followed her advice and it usually worked.  Full of encouragement, Katie had the magic touch.  She praised me when I got it right and never barked when I got it wrong.  It was always "don't be angry, just give it another try".  Katie reminded me of my beloved Aunt Lynn, the woman who singlehandedly kept me from jumping off a cliff during college.  Katie was without a doubt the most positive woman I had ever met.  I mean that completely.  Katie exuded boundless warmth and can-do attitude.  Comparing Katie's encouragement versus Celeste with her insidious style of mocking every mistake, I could not help but notice the vast improvement in my performance.  Amazing what the right woman can do for a man.  Similar to Rachel, when I was with Katie, I came close to being the guy I had the potential to be. 

Based on the way people approached me, I had two personalities... Puppy Dog and Porcupine.  Due to my thin skin, if someone needled me, I turned sarcastic, prickly, and defensive.  Celeste brought out the Porcupine, but Katie had a way of calming the Beast in a way no other woman had ever done.  And don't think I didn't notice.  Deep down, I was a decent, caring, loyal person.  But ever since Vanessa, that part of me stayed well hidden from any woman I was interested in.  Lucy and Jill had seen my Puppy Dog side, but they were not potential girlfriends who threatened my shaky confidence.  With my decent side shrouded in darkness, most people saw my moody, prickly side.  But Katie brought out my soft side and I loved her for it.  We were becoming friends.  If something funny happened in class, we would exchange smiles.  When we danced together, we acted like teammates sharing a project. 

At the end of Week Two, Katie said, "See you next week, Rick!"  And just like that, she was gone before I could say a word.  Well aware that Katie was one of a kind, how was I supposed to bridge the gap from 'friend' to 'girlfriend' when I could not even chat with her? 

Week Four covered Rumba, a slow-paced Latin dance featuring a pattern called the Box Step.  I liked the soft, romantic Latin music.  Very pretty.  The Rumba called for a woman's sensual hip motion.  Noting how quickly Katie picked it up, I decided she was very talented.

At the end of class, Jack made an announcement.  If we would like a chance to practice our dancing outside of class, Jack would meet us at Melody Lane Ballroom for their weekly Friday Ballroom Dance.   Referring to his invitation as 'Graduation Night', we would have our sixth and final class on Wednesday, August 13, then meet again two nights later on Friday, August 15.  My heart pounded.  This was the chance I had been waiting for.   Glancing at Katie, I noticed she was smiling.  A very good sign.  I asked Katie if she was going to Graduation Night.

Katie did not hesitate.  "Sure, Rick, that sounds like a good idea.  We can practice what we learned in class and hopefully get the hang of it."

Now that Katie had committed to Graduation Night, I decided not to ask Katie out tonight like I had planned.  I knew Katie liked me, but I did not know how much.  I worried if I asked her out and she said no, then I might lose her as a dance partner.  In this case, maybe she would not come back next week.  Since I didn't want to take that chance, I decided to wait for the upcoming Graduation Night to make my move.  Surely at Melody Lane there would be plenty of opportunities to chat with her and evaluate where I stood.  So I bided my time.

The footwork to Foxtrot was not difficult.  The Box Step, an important pattern common to Foxtrot, Waltz and Rumba, was very easy to learn.  Several patterns used 'back steps'.  Thanks to experience with 'step-ball-change' from my Freestyle days, the Back Step was effortless to learn.  Other patterns used 'Step-together-step', footwork that appeared in practically every Disco line dance.   Since the footwork was identical to steps I had mastered back in David's Freestyle class, I was baffled by my difficulty with Henry and Celeste.  I was also mystified by my success in Jack's class.  So I asked a question.

"Katie, you have never danced with anyone else in this class other than the teacher a couple times.  How can you be so sure where I stand relative to the other men?"

"I can tell just by watching.  The point is that you are doing really well.  You pay close attention and you take it seriously.  It is easy to dance with you."

This was a compliment I took great pride in.  Considering what a miserable failure I had been with Celeste a few months earlier, I was pleased to note this class had restored much of my confidence in my dancing ability.  When I danced the patterns with Katie, I did just fine.  Katie's encouragement was music to my ears.  Furthermore, I trusted her opinion.  As I looked around, it did seem like I was doing pretty well compared to the other guys in class.  I kept quiet about it, but inside I was very proud of myself.  Katie had a way of bringing out the best in me.  I was such a puppy dog around Katie, always wagging my tail because I was so happy to be near her. 

I could climb mountains with Katie beside me.  My improvement helped reinforce my growing suspicion that I had been set up to fail by Henry with considerable help from Celeste.  However, despite Katie's praise, I had several nagging doubts about Jack's class.  I continued to wonder why I was doing so well in this class after doing so poorly in Celeste's class.  I also had a nagging worry over our lack of review.  Learning the new moves was not a problem, but remembering the moves we had learned previously was driving me nuts.  For example, here in Week Five, the Swing and Cha Cha patterns from Weeks One and Two were a total blank.  If there was one aspect about myself I believed in, it was my excellent memory.  Unfortunately, my vaunted memory did me little good in this class.  Try as I might, my ability to execute the moves from earlier classes seemed to have evaporated.  This worried me a lot. 

There was something else that bothered me.  I did not know how to connect the patterns.  Jack never put two moves together.  Rather than introduce back to back sequences, Jack simply taught each pattern individually.  When learned by themselves, none of these patterns were particularly difficult.   Okay, I have six patterns on this sheet of paper, but how do I link them together?  How was I supposed to get from Point A to Point B?  How does a man flow from one pattern to the next without stopping? 

When I voiced this concern to Katie, she laughed.  "Oh, Rick, you are so silly.  You connect the patterns using the leads Jack is showing you.  Each move has a signal to show me what you want me to do next."

"Yes, I know that, Katie, but I don't know when to give those signals unless I am watching Jack.  When I am alone, I can't figure out how to link my footwork from one pattern to all those different options."  

"I see your problem.  I am so glad I don't have to lead."

When Katie said the word 'Lead', a sense of dread came over me.  To me, 'Leading' was some sort of Black Magic.  I recalled how Henry had danced moves with Celeste she claimed not to know.  When I asked her to explain, Celeste said that Henry knew how to lead, but refused to elaborate.  This infuriated me because I suspected Henry used leads to demonstrate his vast superiority over me time after time.  Now Jack was doing the same thing and that really bothered me.  Katie said Leading was a physical thing that involved nudging the woman one way or pulling the lady another way at the right time.  However, she was unable to show me what she meant.  My understanding was so superficial I thought it was a system of signals where all I had to do was stick my hand in the air at the right time.  Overwhelmed by a sense of dread, I groaned.  I could barely remember the Foxtrot signals from tonight, much less signals from Week One or Week Two.  If I could not remember tonight's signals, what about Cha Cha and Swing?

And what about practice?  And what about review?  And what logical order are these patterns supposed to follow?  I was getting really worried.  I could not remember the moves from the earlier classes, I had no idea how to do two patterns in a row, I could not signal and I was completely lost when it came to Leading.  This made no sense.  How could I simultaneously be the best dancer in class and be so lost at the same time?  I went home and studied my notes.  Then I caught myself inadvertently staring at the Magic Mirror.  I let out a bitter laugh.  For a moment there I actually wished the Mirror would leave the wall and come dance with me.  A wave of futility surged through me.  It was no use.  Partner dancing could not be practiced alone.

If I possessed any common sense... which I did not... I would have asked Katie to stay after class to help me review the earlier material.  Or even better, I would have asked if we could meet somewhere and practice.  That would be a graceful way of testing if she was interested in me.  If she gave a lame excuse, well, at least I hadn't offended her.  Unfortunately, that simple opening never crossed my mind.  Which in Hindsight is kind of strange considering I thought about Katie non-stop.

Something happened during Foxtrot class that made my heart ache.  When Katie left to use the restroom, an older lady came over to ask me where my girlfriend had gone.  Girlfriend?  In my dreams. 

"Oh, Katie?  She'll be back in a moment."

The lady smiled and said, "I never get to talk to you because you two are inseparable.  How long have you been going out with Katie?"

My eyes widened.  "Oh, no, she's not my girlfriend.  Katie and I are just dance partners."

"Well, you should ask her out.  I see the way you look at her.  You two are so cute together.  I love watching you laugh."

These words broke my heart.  I knew she was right because I thought the same thing.  As the woman pointed out, we were a perfect match in many ways.  We were both tall and slender.  As long as Katie didn't mind my battered face, we were well matched for looks.  We looked good together.  We looked like we belonged together.  The last girl I had cared about was Rachel.  As far as I was concerned, Rachel had been way out of my league.  However, Katie was not out of my league.  Unlike Rachel who grew up wealthy, Katie was solid middle-class like me.  She recognized I was smart and decent.  Yes, I had my problems, but Katie had a way of bringing out the good side of me.  There was all kinds of promise here if I could just work up the courage to ask her out. 

Unfortunately, Phobia was giving me fits.  I was so scared that Katie would shoot me down.  If only the girl would give me some sort of sign that she was interested!!   Otherwise I could not seem to make myself overcome my fear of rejection.  The worst part was that my mind felt dulled by fear.  I kept missing obvious openings like the idea to ask Katie to practice with me sometime outside of class. 

How could I be so smart, yet be so stupid?  I needed someone like Mark to make another Intervention.  I needed someone to tie me to a tree until I screamed in pain and confessed my true feelings for Katie.  Unfortunately, there was no one to rescue me.  I was on my own this time.  Just then, Katie returned.  When she smiled at me, I almost said something.  But the words got stuck.  I said nothing and procrastinated.  "Not now.  If I wait longer, maybe Katie will give me the perfect opening."

Fat chance of that.  As things stood, over the past five weeks Katie had yet to give me an opening.  Now we were running out of time.  Along those lines, something curious happened at the end of class.  Jack reminded us of Graduation Night that would take place on Friday following our sixth and final class.  Ordinarily Katie sprinted out the door, but this time she hesitated to say something.

"Rick, are you still going?"

"Of course."

"Great.  See you next week." 

Katie turned and headed for the door.