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  • Writer's pictureRobert Adams

One More Time

Updated: Mar 8

SHE FINALLY LOOKED UP AT ME and I remembered thinking that she had a beautiful, sweet face. I would soon learn that [she] had what I’d call a slow beauty, the kind you don’t notice at first, and then it knocks you back and grows on you and she gets more beautiful every time you see her and then you can’t believe that you ever thought that she was anything less than completely stunning. Whenever I saw her, my body reacted…

Harlan Coben in Six Years


This excerpt brought back memories for me about a co-ed who was in my art class at Albion College in 1967. The more I got to know Mary, the more I imagined her posing as a model in the nude for our drawing class - it never happened. I’m not sure she even knew I had a crush on her. My flirting seemed to fly right over her head. I should have just asked her out. My drawing skills never improved, likely because of my lack of focus.

My attraction to females is still a mystery to me. I am not sure how it all works, nor do I have real insight into the physical cues that set me off. The feelings just surface and I let them percolate in my imagination. My primal instinct is alive. It’s my plumbing that needs attention.

I have dated and married many women in my life. A disproportionate amount of them were blondes. I think my openness to new experiences underlies this pattern of repetition. My third wife also matched me in disproportionality. She’s been married to three Bobs (I was the second), and to add to that brain teaser, her first cat was also named Bob. Let us hope her latest Bob stays afloat. If not, I’m positive there are more Bobs out there should fate throw a curve.

Through this little exercise I discovered that blondes and brunettes make up most of the female hair color in the U.S. I didn’t think to check on males. Mary was a brunette with beautiful big brown eyes. I’m sure I had a crush on her, not an obsession. I’d bet Mary is still attractive and likely, today, sporting silver hair. I’d still be too shy to ask her out.

C’est la vie.


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