About a month after I moved into my first apartment, the telephone rang.

When I answered it, all I could hear was a recorded message of movie listings and show times from the theater downstairs. When the same thing happened several more times, I called the phone company. They assured me that a repair person would be dispatched to my place the next day.

At eight the next morning someone was knocking on my door. I had only just showered and gone to bed after having been out all night with some friends. I crawled out of bed in my shorts and T-shirt. I opened the door half asleep and sporting the usual morning wood.

On the other side of the threshold was the repair technician: a woman! I ushered her into my apartment. She was a little taller than I, had long red hair, and was athletic looking. As the sight... Read More