You did not know them when I first knew them. As you will see, even if you did know them when I first knew them, I was not then nor am I now a threat to you.
In the women department, you will see I am no threat to anyone.
Love is a strange word. It can be puppy love all the way down to unreciprocated love. Detest is the opposite of love. Like is somewhere in between. I am pretty sure none of the females mentioned here detest me. They may even like me.
But "To All the Girls I've Liked Before" is not a provocative title, and it would require a lot more writing. So let's stick with what we've got.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mary Beth Pytell ~ Grosse Pointe Farms MI
From birth to age 5 Mary Beth Pytell was my neighbor and buddy on Mount Vernon Avenue in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan.
I don't remember a lot about what we did together. I do remember a few times we went to her grandparents' bar in Hamtramck to hang out. No alcohol was offered or served to us. We hung out.
At some point older neighbors arranged for us to be married, and they pulled us around in a wagon like a 5 year old husband and wife. I am pretty sure we did not even sneak a wedding kiss.
That said, I declare that to be evidence that Mary Beth was my first romantic interest. Her father went on to be a prominent judge, so I should be careful about what I say. Later in life I found reason to steer clear of lawyers and judges if at all possible.
In the mid 1980's Mary Beth and I were coincidentally neighbors in the Division Street neighborhood of Chicago. We got together for one dinner. She did not like that I smoked cigarettes while she ran iron woman competitions. We never got together again.
As you can see, Mary Beth turned out alright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lucy Lynn Williams ~ Dallas TX
This is not Lucy Lynn. It is how I recall her.
In 1962 we moved to Dallas, Texas. Lucy Lynn Williams was my neighbor and buddy. I lived on Princess Lane and she lived on Lancelot Drive. It was a Camelot neighborhood, and Lucy Lynn lived across the Royal Back Alley from me.
I played Barbie dolls with Lucy Lynn. I hope and believe I most often worked with Ken and her with Barbie, but I am not sure.
My older brothers then ridiculed me for playing with Barbie dolls. Thus, one day I marched over to Lucy Lynn's house as usual. When we sat down she pulled out the Barbie dolls as usual.
I mustered up the belief that I no longer liked Barbie dolls and the courage to tell her, "Seven year old boys do not play with Barbie dolls." Then I got up and went home.
My parents reported that Lucy Lynn was heartbroken, as reported to them by her parents. I stood strong only to appease my pinhead brothers.
Lucy Lynn's father was a high level FBI agent. After JFK was shot their house was filled with high level FBI folks. By that time I palled around with Lucy Lynn again, only not to play Barbie dolls.
For all I know I may have seen J. Edgar Hoover at Lucy Lynn's house. If you believe certain rumors J. Edgar Hoover may have dressed up like Barbie on occasion, though the image of that is not appealing. If he dressed like that while on duty at Lucy Lynn's house I do not recall it, but you never know.
My parents and brothers said Lucy Lynn was a strikingly beautiful girl. I can not remember what she looked like, only that she had very long hair. I have no photo of her, so we must rely on my parents' recollection and my pinhead brothers as evidence that she was beautiful.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hillary Richmond ~ Dover MA
This is not Hillary. It is how I recall her.
In 1964 we moved to Dover Massachusetts, a suburb of Boston. Hillary Richmond was my buddy at school, though we did not live near each other. Hillary was a very popular tomboy who could beat most boys in sports, especially me.
Hillary was good looking in a rugged tomboy way, but not beautiful. Despite the fact that she could squash me like a grape, she liked me, which made me like her back. A lot.
On my 7th or 8th birthday I wanted to have Hillary as the only girl to attend my party. I invited her verbally and she accepted verbally. My mother did not think it was appropriate to have only one girl among a bunch of boys.
Despite my reasoning and pleading Mom vetoed the idea. Dad traveled a lot and thus had no say in the matter. That pretty much put the kibosh on my friendship going forward with Hillary Richmond.
I have no photo of Hillary. Suffice it to say she was good looking in a rugged tomboy way and could squash me like a grape.
All females from this point forward resided in the vicinity of Sandy Springs GA.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Liz Hendley
In 1966 we moved to Sandy Springs, a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia.
I began 4th grade and was immediately attracted to Liz Hendley, as were many. I found no opportunity to express my attraction until Valentine's Day.
The morning of February 14, 1967 I boldly went to school with the smallest available Whitman's Sampler, the size of a wallet, purchased with my own money. I proudly left it on Liz's desk, likely with some note, and walked away hoping I had not been seen.
Moments later my friend Pat Almand handed a gimongo Whitman's Sampler, likely purchased by his parents, to Liz's good friend, Dixie Lagrone. Pat handed it to Dixie directly.
Having seen that, I thought of nuclear fallout public service announcements instructing students to 'duck and cover' under one's desk. I gave thought to that, only I wanted to peel up the linoleum floor tiles and hide under those.
Sweet as she was, later in the day Liz thanked me for the candy. Maybe she got another half dozen much larger boxes from others. I paid zero attention. My romance with Liz had zero future.
As you can see, Liz turned out alright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Dixie Lagrone, Becky Farmer)
I put these two girls in parentheses, because they were never my romantic interests. They were friends. Particularly Dixie. Becky was my neighbor for a few years until her family moved somewhere else nearby.
Dixie was my buddy from 4th grade through high school. She dated one of my best friends in high school, and I tried to lobby on his behalf throughout their teenage trials and tribulations.
She may have counseled me about my romantic interests. As you will see, those were so few and far between she probably did not have much to talk about.
But let's get back to grade school.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lori Fancher
I began 5th grade and was immediately attracted to Lori Fancher, as were many. Unlike in the case of Liz Hendley, I did not wait until Valentine's Day to express my attraction. I gave Lori my ID bracelet via some 3rd party intermediary. She gave it back to me in person by the end of the day. This marks the shortest romantic liaison of my life from birth through high school.
As you can see, Lori turned out alright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In 6th grade puberty began to hit me. I was entirely oblivious to this until my teacher, Burma Lockridge, made the following comment in the hallway for the entire to hear:
"Peter Stoddard, you are losing your baby fat."
Taking that to heart, I decided to give up romance until after all that baby fat shed away. That took about three years.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Anne Lawless
I began 9th grade with a marginal degree of confidence there was not a whole lot more baby fat to shed. If there was, I might be 23 before I lost it all, and that would spell an entire high school experience without pursuing romantic interests.
I was immediately attracted to Anne Lawless, as were many. I asked her to some dance, and she actually accepted. We went to the dance and danced.
Having zero experience with acceptance by a female, I had no clue how to capitalize on that success. I did not ask Anne out again until maybe 11th grade.
I think we might have had a good time on that 11th grade date. We probably danced. Still clueless about how to capitalize on marginal success, I never asked Anne out again.
As you can see, Anne turned out alright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I should point out during this interlude that from 8th to 12th grade I mowed lawns, worked construction, washed dishes and bussed tables at a greasy restaurant and was a trash collector. These jobs did not leave a person smelling good, particularly me.
As my teenage career progressed the jobs I had left me smelling worse and worse. One, three and five showers would not necessarily remove the smell.
This probably had zero to do with my romantic success or lack thereof. I just think it merits pointing out as a possible alibi.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Cindy Young
In 10th grade I decided to venture out beyond the limits of my high school district so that perhaps my reputation for romantic ineptitude might have lagged behind.
This meant Peachtree Presbyterian Church Youth Fellowship. It was not a great place for me to have considered venturing out, because a whole lot of my female high school friends also attended Peachtree Presbyterian Church Youth Fellowship.
Anyway, it was worth a shot. At one week long summer camp I was immediately attracted to Cindy Young, as were many. We kinda got to like each other.
My high school females friends were good sports and mentioned nothing to Cindy about my romantic ineptitude. That meant we might have kinda been an item for about 3 or 4 days.
Then, after camp, despite having a driver's license, I could not figure out a way to see Cindy if I asked her out and by remote chance she accepted. After all, she lived in a different high school district, and GPS had not yet been invented. So I didn't ask her out. Ever.
As you can see, Cindy turned out alright.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We shall stop here. In later high school and throughout college my ineptitude involved women who may know where I live. They may or may not want to know where I live. Either way, it is why it is a good idea to stop here.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We can draw some conclusions here. I have an eye for pretty extraordinary females, even if they did not have an eye for less than extraordinary me.
If they formed a club I would like to join it, but I would not know what to do there if they ever even decided to let me in.
If they see this they may say I flatter myself by associating myself with them, no matter how far in the distant past I claim to have associated myself with them. I could not agree more.
I do not claim conquest with these people. I confess failure. But if you are going to fail, you might as well fail with the best.
There is still time for me to succeed, just not all that much time. Relatively speaking, I haven't done all that well with the time behind me, which in all likelihood is significantly longer than the time ahead of me.
But I can not fret about such things. I am a forward thinking person, so I better follow those instincts and commence to thinking forward.
I may still need a few more showers to rid myself of that 12th grade trash collector funk. Perhaps there is some new digital former trash collector funk removal app I do not know about and would be unable to operate if I learned about it.
Maybe my romantic future lies with FarmersOnly (dot) com. There I might find some woman many states away who smells as bad as I might still. Or maybe she owns so much livestock that I might not smell so bad by comparison. Or maybe she owns enough acres that we need not spend time close to each other except for infrequent attempts at romance.
But the evidence reveals that I do not settle for unattractive women, even if they choose not to settle for me. If FarmersOnly (dot) com now conceals that lady with possible poor judgement of my dreams, I ain't moving to any state many states away. She's gonna have to fly me there and back.
This might take a while. And I don't have that many whiles left.
To be continued. Or maybe not.
