Who's Pregnant, Who's Weird, Who's Ready
I hate it when my hydrogen sulfide generator explodes.
Every Friday I send out a real love letter that I’ve transcribed from a stack I bought at the flea market (until they run out — and we’re getting so close, you guys). Missed one? Check the chronological list.
This part of the letter is typewritten.
November 12, 1961
(10 days)
Darling,
Please excuse the typewritten letter. I have much to say and little time to say it in. It’s been at least a year since I last saw you — the calendar is wrong. Working five days a week and going to school three nights a week is beginning to get me down — especially when my weekends are spent longing for the presence of a most wonderful girl at the U of I, named Kay.
Remember last year when he couldn’t handle just taking classes when away at school? He really hated school!
Almost everything I do reminds me of you. I’ve realized that I’m not only building my Hi-Fi for my own personal pleasure, but also for you. It just won’t be complete unless you hear it.
Why was this the first thing I thought of? Am I the least sentimental person on earth?
It’s because you are beautiful music. And I love life and everything around me because you are beautiful days and nights and flowers and the green trees and the trees turning to gold in the fall. And the city during the day and the city during the night, and all the happiness and joy in the world, and all the small but wonderful and everlasting moments men cherish for a lifetime. These are the things you mean to me and are why I want to spend every moment of every day with you. And, most important, you are you. That is what I cherish most.
I must also write a letter to Nelson to let him know for sure that I’m coming down next weekend. Another lonely weekend I could barely tolerate and that’s only because I would know that Thanksgiving was soon to follow. Mary Kay C___ and I ride to work every morning and she talks about Ron B___ and I talk about you. We’re both counting the days except that she has one less day to count. Some people have all the luck, but such is life in the big city, I guess.
I used to think referring to “life in the Big City” was funny, but I bet it was just an echo of The Big City episode of Get a Life. Does anybody know what I’m talking about? Schitt’s Creek’s Chris Elliott had this completely bonkers sitcom about living with his parents as a failed adult, and it was absolutely my favorite show for a hot minute back in like 1991. My early 1990s TV habits are weirdly evergreen with Twin Peaks and X-Files topping the list, but, Get A Life was my favorite comedy.
What were we talking about? Oh, yes, Love!
You better be here Wednesday though, because if you’re not, I’ll be down in Champaign to get you. On that I am unchangeably set.
I’ve gotta start using the word unchangeably more often.
All this romance talk reminds me: Were we not in the middle of a pregnancy scare and a dead rabbit in just the last envelope? Is all this romance building up to an engagement proposal, maybe?
I am including instructions for your project. The test is for hormones secreted by ovaries and which appear in the urine during the early development of the fetus (first three months).
FINALLY! OMG. HER “PROJECT.”
Remember, fertilization is not so much dependent on the male as it is on the female.
This is starting to feel like an actual project and not a scandal.
While the male does have times of fertility and non-fertility, fertilization is still quite possible at any time if the female is very fertile, which is the last 3 or 4 days of the 10-day period I mentioned. And passion expressed is not a gauge of fertility.
Oh, man, I’d love to read the letter she sent that prompted this reply. PASSION EXPRESSED is NOT RELATED to getting knocked up. The past was crazy.
This reminds me of the time my high school friend Derek told us that his girlfriend was ready to have sex with him and their birth control plan was for his girlfriend to steal ONE of her mom’s birth control pills that day. Because they thought birth control pills were a one-time use item like condoms. Looking back, I wonder if they assumed the mom in question was having sex every single day?
Passion is dependent on other things.
Indeed.
People do not have a period of heat analogous to that of animals. She has my sympathy, however, because no amount of reassurance will dispel the doubt that plagues a girl and a fella, if he has any sense of responsibility. It’s just not worth it.
Welp. They’re not having a pregnancy scare. But I can’t help but notice how much less judgy he is about romantic entanglements this year than he was last year. Heh.
But enough of these things. I am sending your shirt out tomorrow morning. In keeping with your request, I poured “That Man” on it. I hope it’s still evident when the shirt gets to you.
That took a turn and is a bit kinkier than I expected.
I’m sending it first class with this letter, so it should get there about the same time. You shall receive some sweet-smelling mail. The mailmen’s bags will also be sweet-smelling for a change.
When I tell you this whole thing baffled me until I googled That Man and sweet scents! Google’s AI results says:
“That Man” is a men's perfume by Revlon that was released in 1958. The scent is spicy-leathery and has a fragrance pyramid of:
Top notes: Bergamot, lemon, petitgrain, lavender
Middle notes: Geranium, cloves, cedar, carnation, spices
Base notes: Musk, oak moss, tonka bean, amber
I wonder which websites they stole that info from? Google doesn’t even want you to leave the search page now to drive traffic to the content creators. Nobody needs actual content creators now, just content scrapers. Check out this actual fragrance review website to learn more about this iconic fragrance and defeat Google and AI. Heh.
The shirt should be all ready to wear, unless you want to air it out first. I wish I was in that shirt.
This is sorta sweet and sorta weird.
However, I can think of no better filling for it than you. The sewed areas represent former holes from acid.
Getting weirder all the time.
And if you hold it up to the light, you will notice a bunch of very small holes caused by a spray of acid at one time or other which probably happened when my hydrogen sulfide generator exploded, which it does every now and then.
Oh, I hate it when that happens with my hydrogen sulfide generator!
That shirt has what one would call “personality.” It’s still in pretty good shape though and the material has a nice feel to it. You could use it as a bed sheet in case you run low. Or even a floor rag. I hope you find it satisfactory, though.
This is the kind of stuff long-distance relationship kids do, right? I can’t process it.
I’m afraid I’ll have to finish this later (probably tomorrow). It’s getting late and I have much studying and sleep to accomplish (more of the former, naturally). So, until later, Darling, sweet dreams, sleep tight, and take real good care of yourself. Good luck, and remember I’ll be doing everything I can for you regarding your exams, short of coming down and taking them for you, which I might do with a little prodding.
Auf Wiedersehen, Schatzchen.
Handwritten, below, on the same typed page:
Nov. 13, 1961
(9 days)
Better finish this and mail it before the day is gone. Also your package. As you have gathered, I don’t know who the problem-child on the floor is, but I have an idea that it is the one I talked to and (true to form) whose name I have forgotten. The only other one is our friend going with the policeman and who now has her wish.
He’s def talking about the girl with the pregnancy scare. Kay is being a good friend and not dishing about who it is. Hopefully, we will get follow-up about this, but I doubt it.
Let me know in the event that you get a chance to write before Friday. My curiosity is aroused. Friday can’t come too soon. Next week should be a real week to remember. I’ve just got to see you. The more I think of it the more anxious I get, and I’ll be close to explosive proportions by this weekend.
Try to get as much done as you can before I come down because even if I do go home early Sunday, you know you will hardly be in the best of shape to study. And don’t neglect to get enough sleep and food. You can’t study efficiently if your body’s run down.
Don’t micromanage the poor girl.
So until you hear me again, sweet dreams, sleep tight and take real good care of yourself.
Love ad Infinitum,
Tiger
There’s only a handful of envelopes left, friends and I’m a little sad about it. But, in happier news, I know what I’m going to replace this Friday email with, and it’s a different kind of delightful peek into the past with a strong View-Master connection.
If you made it this far, tap that ❤️ button!
Gonna get me some of 'That Man'!
I'm so sad that this adventure is almost over! I know what you have planned is gonna be just as great!