Pretty peculiar, right?But that was OK. I felt as if we had an understanding. I was pretty sure that, the very next time we met, it would be the end of the long, strange mating ritual, and the beginning of a beautiful friendship.I was certain enough about this that I made plans, then and there, to at last become the aggressor. If Shirley wanted me to stop, next time, she'd have to say so, in plain English. No more subtle signals that I would graciously try to read, looking for my stop-sign.If she didn't affirmatively push me away, my intention was to push on.But the next time I saw Shirley wasn't really the "next time" we'd be together and alone. She dropped by my house, early-early on the first day of the semester.When I answered the door, I momentarily didn't recognize her. She was dressed in Standard Coed Outfit Type A. Only -- her beautiful blonde hair was now a medium-dark brown. It was shining and lustrous, and the coloring job had been professionally done. My gorgeous,. It certainly didn’t provide any great insights, or anything else I could usefully wield in my fight to save the princess in the tower.I flashed back to Phoebe at school. She hadn’t been damaged. So why... It suddenly came to me. Other kids sat with her at school, but they always approached her in a group, not on their own.My mouth actually dropped open.They were afraid of her – too afraid to be alone with her to face that incredible temper if they did or said the wrong thing. That’s why she was always either alone or in a group – and why she had no real close friends.My White Knight had fucked me over with her, as well. I’d subconsciously felt sorry for her, and remembered that feeling – below the radar – when I’d met her again in my slimmer, more confident guise. That sympathy had pushed me straight at her – although, admittedly, her looks hadn’t exactly made me run screaming for the hills.“You fucking stupid bastard!” I swore at myself. The cabbie looked at me in the mirror, and I.
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