(Not Stevie)
HenryMakow.com – July 17, 2023
As a change of pace, a memoir which shows how morality has changed in 50 short years.
In those days, a woman’s virginity meant something. I was an earnest young man; I didn’t want to be her “first.” I wasn’t in love with her. I wasn’t ready for marriage. I didn’t want to be “the one.” I didn’t explain.
updated from June 14, 2017
by Henry Makow Ph.D.
She stayed after class to listen to my conversation with the professor. The course was Eighteenth-Century English Literature.
The year was 1971. I was 21, working as a reporter on the night shift at the Ottawa Journal, finishing my BA at Carleton University.
She was a kindergarten teacher in Collingwood, a resort town north of Toronto, the pretty daughter of an Anglican minister.
Her father obviously had wanted a son. Her name was “Stevie.”
We left the building together and ended up in her room in residence. I don’t remember if this was the first day or later. In any case, we engaged in what in those days was called “necking.”
After, she asked me if she was pregnant. I assured her that she wasn’t. We had not had intercourse. She had not removed her panties.
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