taleoftwoclassmates
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A Tale of Two Classmates
Historical Fiction Account of the Relationship Between Two Handley High Classmates
There are novels, there are histories, and there are historical novels. Just how much fiction and how much history there is in a historical novel, no one really knows. It could be ninety-nine percent history and one percent fiction or it could be 0.00001 percent history and 99.99999 percent fiction. My story is somewhat like a historical novel only much briefer. It is about two classmates, a couple, from high school days. Let me change the names so as to conceal their identities. I’ll call the guy, Clayton, and the girl, Jane, in my historical fiction.
It all began after my becoming a little frustrated in trying to get dates from the girls in my class. Each time the response was the same, “Get lost, jerk.” Well, you can only imagine how that affected my psyche. Sometime during that difficult experience I began reading “Dear Abby” seeking help in my search for a girlfriend and a way to overcome the brick wall I had encountered.
Although I wrote “Dear Abby” a number of times, she was never able to provide any workable solution to my problem. In so many words she told me, “Get lost, jerk.” So I began reading her column to see if I could adopt some solution she had provided to others. It was through my regular and thorough reading of her column that I began to piece together things that others had written. The story that I’m about to tell about the couple I’ve called Clayton and Jane would normally have been impossible to glean, except for what each had revealed as they each separately and independently wrote to “Dear Abby” as I had done.
Neither had realized that the other had written to “Dear Abby,” but through my careful and diligent study of the writings of “Dear Abby” managed to put his inputs and her inputs together to give a complete understanding of their developing relationship. So now you know how it came about that I have such insight into the thoughts of my fellow Handley High classmates.
It was the opinion of “Dear Abby” that contrary to what many women believe, it's fairly easy to develop a long-term, stable, intimate, and mutually fulfilling relationship with a guy. Of course this guy has to be a Labrador retriever. With human guys, it's extremely difficult. This is because guys don't really grasp what women mean by the term "relationship."
Let me now begin relating the story of Clayton and Jane’s developing relationship as I was able to construct it from the “Dear Abby” column. So this guy, that we’re calling Clayton, is attracted to this woman, that we’re calling Jane. He asks her out to a movie, she accepts, and they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither of them is seeing anybody else.
Then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Jane, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud, "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"
And then there is silence in the car. To Jane, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Clayton is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Jane is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward...I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward (gulp) marriage? Toward children (big gulp)? Toward a lifetime together?
Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Clayton is thinking: so that means it was...let's see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Jane is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed—even before I sensed it—that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
And Clayton is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck and I paid those incompetent thieving cretins six hundred dollars.
And Jane is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. Oh, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Clayton is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the scumbags.
And Jane is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly care about, a person who seems to truly care about me, a person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl, romantic fantasy.
And Clayton is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their nose.
"Clayton," Jane says aloud. "What?" says a startled Clayton. "Please don't torture yourself like this, she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...Oh, I feel so..." [She breaks down sobbing.]
"What?" says Clayton.
"I'm such a fool," Jane sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Clayton.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Jane says.
"NO!" says Clayton, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...It's that I...I need some time," Jane says.
[There is a 15-second pause while Clayton, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.]
"Yes," he says.
[Jane, deeply moved, touches his hand.] "Oh, Clayton, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Clayton. "That way about time," says Jane.
"Oh," says Clayton. "Yes."
[Jane turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.]
"Thank you, Clayton," she says.
"Thank you," says Clayton.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Clayton gets back to his place, he opens a big bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Clayton's policy regarding world hunger.)
The next day Jane will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Clayton, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Jane's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "David, did Jane ever own a horse?"
We're not talking about different wavelengths here. We're talking about different planets, in completely different solar systems. Jane cannot communicate meaningfully with Clayton about their relationship any more than she can meaningfully play chess with a duck. Because the sum total of Clayton's thinking on this particular topic is as follows: Huh?
What “Dear Abby” pointed out is that, if you're a woman, and you want to have a successful relationship with a guy, the Number One Tip to remember is:
1) Never assume that the guy understands that you and he have a relationship.
The guy will not realize this on his own. You have to plant the idea in his brain by constantly making subtle references to it in your everyday conversation, such as:
"Clayton, would you mind passing me a Sweet 'n' Low, inasmuch as we have a relationship?"
"Wake up, Clayton! There's a prowler in the den and we have a relationship! You and I do, I mean."
"Good News, Clayton! The bank just reported that we had paid off our 30 year mortgage on our house that serves as yet another indication that we have a relationship!"
"Clayton, inasmuch as this plane is crashing and we probably have only about a minute to live, I want you to know that we've had a wonderful 53 years of marriage together, which clearly constitutes a relationship."
“Dear Abby” recommends, “Never let up, women. Pound away relentlessly at this concept, and eventually it will start to penetrate the guy's brain. Some day he might even start thinking about it on his own. He'll be talking with some other guys about women, and, out of the blue, he'll say, "Jane and I, we have, ummmm... We have, ahhhh...We...We have this thing." And he will sincerely mean it.”
Let me put your mind at ease concerning “Clayton” and “Jane.” They did move on in their life to have a wonderful, long-term relationship. You’ll probably see them at the Handley High 1959 Class 50th reunion, but please don’t breathe a word about this to them if you recognize them. “Clayton” still doesn’t understand what happened back in those days.
~~~~~~~~~~ End: Tale of Two Classmates ~~~~~~~~~~