Once upon a time I had a crush on a young man. He had such a lovely mustache, dimples in his cheeks and very blue eyes. He looked at me and got my heart to beat faster. But he was a good looking middle class college student and busy every time we met with his political meetings. And I was a working class girl with severe underclass complex, and I was bored at everything that wasn’t poetry and I honestly believed in the phrase “Around here you get what you can get”. Meaning, I didn’t believe he wanted me. So dispirited, I let me be hooked up by another guy. I was grateful anyone at all wanted me. Though I was a pretty girl but I didn’t know, shy violet me. He raped me one night at one of those conferences at that times and boasted next about what great sex he had had and my Mr. Romance got it all wrong and thought I was taken and I certainly was but not as he thought. So he withdrew when he saw me with that other guy. And I really wanted to go down through ground and disappear forever, wishes such not working at all on me. My world’s downfall it truly was, never recovering never talked about hidden deep in sad heart, such are. And what do people see when your heart gets crushed? Not even the valium pills cared about it. And further, men seems to relate to men only and act with women as they are a property to someone. Well anyhow, the good guys were apparently never for me, that what my story tells me over and again and I guess I have to be grateful to have had some lovers at all through the years and even had orgasms now and then. But I have realized I still have not learned anything by my past experiences, as I’ve done it now again – got a crush on a nice man and messed it up for me. And gosh, I feel like shit over myself being so unskilled in love matters. Maybe I should forget about romances and get a hobby, knitting for example? Well, I wish I had such interests and power over my heart. But I’m still in for poetry only. Never did toughen up.