I knew this girl at school. She was super cute. Busty. Asian. Sweet. Shy. Christian!
Just how I love ’em!
I thought I’d never have her. That’s how my life had been — that which I wanted most — a mother, health, community, stability, friends — was always out of reach.
Surely this fine Christian girl would be no different.
We parted ways when illness forced me to drop out of school.
Somehow, I got her mailing address. Though I was feeling low, I didn’t want to come across to my dream girl as needy. So I limited myself to writing her once or twice a year.
And half the time, she wrote me back.
I had so much that I wanted to share with her. I wanted to tell her about my desperation and my fear and my loss of hope, but to the best of my ability, I kept an upbeat tone with my letters.
In the darkness of my life, however, I fantasized about her and the field of dreams that was her body.
I’d never had a busty girlfriend, you see. God hadn’t blessed me that way.
The years rolled by. I feared I’d never get well.
And then I did. Sorta. All thanks to a skinny girl 11 years my senior with A-cup breasts.
I came back to Westwood in March 1994. Staying alone in a friend’s apartment, I called my dream girl and a couple of days later, she came over.
We sat on the porch on the fourth floor and looked out at the city.
She’d aged — she was about 24 now and a recent university graduate — and she wasn’t as hot as six years previous, but she was still my fantasy.
And as we sat in the sun, I did something very unusual for me — I turned the conversation towards sex.
A few seconds later, she leaned over and kissed me on the lips.
I kissed her back and then took her in my arms — my heart swelling — and pulled her inside, slowly removing her clothes.
When the last vestige was gone and she told me she was a virgin and I lay with her on my bed, that was the happiest moment in my life. I had what I wanted most.
I was 27 years old. I had two-thirds of my health back. I was at UCLA. I had my (Reform) conversion to Judaism. And in my arms, I held my naked dream girl.
I was like the victor in World War II standing in a French wheat field in the May sun with my arms spread wide proclaiming, “Soon there will be plenty!”
That Spring of 1994, I was cock sure there’d always be plenty of love in my life.
