Maybe it was the whole graduation thing and the lack of my attendance at hers that lead my college girlfriend to break up with me. Or I guess it could have been my relentless harsh diatribe spewed to her roommates while reviewing a weekend spent with TB’s friends. It doesn’t really matter; the end result was the same.
But it was TB who purchased as a present for my birthday a subscription to Playboy. The year was 1992, the same year that Anna Nicole became POY.
I instantly fell in lust with her curves. I nurtured that relationship on numerous occasions during a time when my roommate, Popeye, was called out of reserve to serve the Commonwealth of Kentucky during Desert Storm. We were at war, ya know. And I must have thought that the enemy was hiding in my 501s.
I’ll never forget the come-hither look of my POY lounging in the tub and covered with bubbles. I was hooked for years; through the muumuu-like, big pink dress years and the horrid B-movies, she was my Marilyn.
As for TB, going out to dinner with her parents after her college graduation just didn’t appeal to me at the time. Maybe I should have called instead of standing them up. And I didn’t know she was in the other room during my diatribe.
She broke up with me for the guy to whom I subleased Popeye’s room. She married him.
