Stranger in a Park

by Author Unknown

Originally Appeared in Confessions of the Lovelorn issue #92 in 1958.

Delia Foster was a girl from far out in the sticks. She'd been born and bred on an outlying farm and was as innocent and shy as a girl could be. And this was her first visit to New York—an extended visit to her Aunt Mary that she had undertaken with much trepidation. She'd heard so many stories about New York and its wickedness! And you can be sure that her mother had listened to the same stories and filled her ears with warnings. Mostly they were about New York City men, who were all fickle, flirtatious, and not to be trusted. "Now remember—don't say a word to any of 'em!" her mother counseled, and Delia promised to be careful of these deep-dyed city villains.

And now here she was in New York City, and as lonesome as a girl could be. Aunt Mary was nice, but just like mom—not at all exciting! And after the novelty of the tall buildings wore off, Delia longed to be back home, where she knew people. But she couldn't just up and go because she had promised her aunt to stay several months. She had to stick it out, but how slowly time dragged! While away the afternoon hours, Delia took to strolling in nearby Central Park, keeping a wary eye out for male strangers, of course! On this particular day, she walked until she was tired, but all the benches seemed crowded. Ah—there was one on which only one person was seated, half-concealed behind a newspaper. With a sigh of relief, she sat. The next moment, the newspaper was lowered, and the face of a young man revealed itself. He looked at her appreciatively—had we mentioned that Delia was an extraordinarily pretty girl?—and at last spoke. "It—it's a nice day, isn't it?" he asked. But he received no answer because Delia was almost running for home. This was what she'd been warned against a slick, designing city man!

When she returned to the park the next day because she had nowhere else to go, she prayed she wouldn't meet him. But even as she walked along, she became aware of someone next to her. She turned, and there he was! "It's even nicer today than Yesterday," he said, "and you look awfully nice, too!" These last words were addressed to the air, for Delia had taken off once again. This time, she allowed several days to elapse but finally returned because the spring weather was so lovely and where else to go but Central Park? She sought out a secluded bench where that awful young man could never find her, but she was only there for a few minutes. "Hi! I've been looking for you!" came that by a now-familiar voice, and once more, she fled. But in the privacy of her room, she worked up an absolute rage. What right had he to victimize her like this? She had her rights—he wasn't going to scare her out of the park! Each day, doggedly, she returned, only to retreat again because he was on hand, with constant greetings and attempts to engage her in conversation. It got so that he even haunted her dreams. Oh, she knew his kind, hiding behind an open face and pleasant good looks that masked the fiend that he was! She thought that she was building up an immunity against him, however, until the day when he appeared, out of nowhere as usual, and sat down on the bench beside her. "Today, you've got to speak to me," he said. "You're so lovely that—"

Now, for the first time, anger superseded timidity. Her temper lost, Delia turned on the presuming young man and let him have it—and real good. She told him everything she thought about him in blistering terms, ending up threatening to call a police officer if he ever annoyed her again. "You won't have to," the young man said bitterly as he arose. "Don't worry; I'll never annoy you again! It serves me right for trying to be nice to one of you hard, suspicious New York City girls, I suppose—but I was lonesome! Believe me; I'm going back home—to Elville, Indiana—"

"Where did you say?" asked Delia weakly.

"Elmville, Indiana—where I live! I've got a farm there, but maybe that's funny to you! You can tell everyone about the hick who—"

"I live twenty miles from Elmville," said Delia unsteadily. "Sit down; you're like a breath of home, sweet home!" And the policeman who passed an hour later looked at the couple tolerantly. Ah, that was young love in the springtime, all right—kissing in broad daylight!

END

The KIND MEN HATE

by Author Unknown

Originally Appeared in Confessions of the Lovelorn issue #92 in 1958.

In every group of girls, there's one who makes a fetish out of "talking frankly," and Loretta Sykes was that type. It's al. ways easiest to talk frankly when the other party is the meek type, and Loretta was having a field day because Susan Carr wasn't the kind who'd right back. "I could tell you the reason you don't have any dates," remarked Loretta. "It's because you're a know-it-all. You're full of information on everything, and you know more than any guy who'd be foolish enough to try to date you. In a few words, Susan, you're the kind men hate!'.

Susan didn't try to strike back—she just went home and cried, for she knew that there was a certain amount of truth in Loretta's statements. Gosh, she couldn't help it if she knew things. She never tried to parade the fact, but somehow, it would come out during an evening. And whomever the man she was out with, he'd look at her in an antagonistic way and never call her again. It was inevitable that her unfortunate reputation should get around. When it did, her phone stopped ringing, leaving her prey to loneliness and the caustic digs of Loretta. Now the solitary nights dragged on, and the weekends seemed eternal. Oh, it wasn't as if Susan had ever lost a true love by her learning—but a girl likes to go places with desirable men, and there wasn't any man for Susan. That is until one of her brother's former college classmates came on a visit, and Susan promptly lost her heart and fell helter-skelter in love for the first time in her life.

His name was Ron Haley, and he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen—and by far the nicest. Of course, there was a lot of competition for him—for what girl doesn't know a good thing? But Susan knew that at least at the beginning, she had the inside track, for Ron was staying at their house. She had nothing to worry about on the score of looks, for she was a darned, pretty girl. But she knew that her mentality gave her plenty of which to be wary. She'd already chased away practically every eligible man in town. Now, when the chips were down, she had to be sure that Ron didn't join their number. It amounted to that Susan decided not to be a smart girl. She'd leave the heavy thinking to him, and it would probably flatter him no end! So that's what she did. When Ron asked her opinion of the United Nations, she replied, "What are they?" When he spoke about Ernest Hemingway's writings, she professed never to have heard of him. When he told of his wartime experiences in India, she pretended not to be quite sure where that was. That way, she was making things uncomplicated and straightforward for him. And she thought that she had succeeded when he drew her into his arms on the shadowy side porch and kissed her until her heart did delicious flip-flops. She awaited a proposal breathlessly when he released her, but it didn't come. "Those were goodbye kisses," Ron remarked. "I just had to kiss you because you're so all-fired pretty—and now I've got to move on because you're so all-fired dumb! I'm sorry, Susan, but I can't tie myself down for life to a human bird-brain. So it's goodbye, I guess!"

With that, he headed for the porch stairs, but something hit him like a ton of bricks, bringing him down with a thump. It was Susan, all 110 pounds of her, launching herself through the air in a flying tackle. "Listen, you," she gritted. "You're right. I have been a bird-brain because I was dumb enough to think that all men were alike! But it stops there. I'm a college graduate, a Phi Beta Kappa. I can multiply 4-digit numbers in my mind. I know twelve languages. I can recite the United Nations charter by heart, as well as a lot of the best stuff that Hemingway I ever wrote! Geography, history, mathematics, science—any branch of learning you can think of—I know well enough to win the $64,000 Challenge! You can't hang me for the only dumb thing I ever did in my life—namely, figuring that you could fall for a dumb girl! I did it because I loved you—and now that I've had my say, you can go!"

"I don't want to go,' said Ron Haley softly. "I've just gotten a look at a new you, and I like what I saw! So you're a smart girl, eh? What do you know about kissing?"

Susan passed the test with flying colors. She didn't win a diploma this time, but a title she found far more attractive. Mrs. Ron Haley!

END