The One That Got Away

Flirtatious and Faithful Reader! Ornament of your sex!

Cast your mind back and recall your amorous triumphs.

. . . . Are you casting your mind back, Beauteous Reader? Are you recalling your legions of conquests?

Good. So here’s the question:

Remembering the love-struck multitudes who fell to ground and rolled at your feet, is it possible—it’s unthinkable, it’s insane—but is it possible that one person did not fall for you? Or, sadly, madly, is there one person you should have fallen for, and didn’t?

Who do you most regret?

Me? It’s the short, stocky chap with the round, cheerful face, standing in the open door of a pub on Columbus Avenue (?) Broadway? (?) and calling out to me: “Hey! Come in! Join us!” And me walking by and smiling from under my brows, and him taking a step out the door and saying “Come on! We’re celebrating!”

Now. If there’s one sort of chap yours truly is not attracted to more than any other, it’s a goddam short stocky chap. But somehow, when this short, stocky chap st…