So I wouldn't be hearing from Carla any time soon, he concluded, heavily implying that any problems I might have wished to discuss were very much my own ... and rang off.Which turn of events did not exactly enhance my self esteem ... I felt like something you'd normally scrape off the bottom of a shoe, given the way I'd responded to his call ... and didn't actually help at all in the current situation, either. And, of course, there was the minor fact that Carla was someone I very much liked – exasperating, sure, but also brilliant, lovely and (when last I'd talked to her) oh so happy to be pregnant. So add in some actual emotional turmoil to combine with the guilt and the work difficulties, mix up with feelings of responsibility for the people I worked with ... and our acute vulnerability, in the new circumstances, to whatever PCW might choose to throw at us ... and I was left a less than happy bunny.Which state of mind, even a few months back, would have sent me straight into a pub. I was polite, accepted the hand written invitation, and thanked her. Even though she held such a high status among the members of my class, she didn't intimidate me. To me she was just another student.My best friend, Frank Thompson, asked me everyday if I was planning to attend and whom I was taking. My stock answer was, "I don't plan to go, I hate Halloween!" Awe come on, Ed," Frank would say. "You have to go. You must know some chick that will go out with you." Frank, even if I did, I don't want to go," I'd tell him.My resistance was due, in great part, to the fact that I didn't know a girl that would consider going out with me. I was eighteen and had never been out with a girl. My sexual knowledge was obtained from men's magazines and cheap paperback novels. In my mind, I was a great lover, but in real life my right hand was my only lover.It was a Saturday morning, one week before the party, that my mother told me that she wanted me to take Gail Johnson to the party. Gail was my.
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