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DICK CHAMBERLAIN: Someone once suggested to me that if I was to be successful with the opposite sex, there was a lesson I had to learn early: Treat a teenage girl as a mature woman and a mature woman as a teenage girl. But knowing how to treat a girl isn’t always that simple.
When I was in college, I became rather serious with a young lady. We dated steadily, but after a little more than two months I began to notice a restlessness about her, a mysterious impatience. It didn’t come out in words, but I couldn’t help sensing it.
And then one night I realized from the discussion we were having that she wanted to know right now whether I was going to ask her to marry me.
As gently as I could, since I really did like her and did not consider her impatience as aggressiveness, I said, “But darling, we have so much time ahead of us, so many things to do for ourselves before we can be ready for each other.”
“You say we have time,” she replied. “You have time. Men do.” Then she shook her head slowly and with a smile steeped in sadness she added, “You will have to learn, Richard, that no woman has that much time.”
I shall always be grateful to that girl. She touched my life deeply. Although I was unhappy at the time to know that I was losing her because I felt I was not ready for marriage, she taught me a truth about women. A truth I have never forgotten.
A woman believes ( Continued on page 81)
VINCENT EDWARDS: A few years back I wasn’t treating girls, I was saving them. I was a citizen of that famous New York borough, Brooklyn, and took a job as life guard at Coney Island. My chores were simple: watch out for swimmers in trouble, reunite lost children with their parents (sometimes it was the other way around I and help clean up the beach on Monday mornings.
In the beginning, my chief interest in the working weekend was to accumulate money to pay my way through college. But after two or three Sundays I discovered that I was reaping a number of fringe benefits I hadn’t expected from the job.
I had a reserved seat on the front row of life. Every weekend, humanity shimmies out of the clothes harness for a holiday of happy hysterical “lots of mustard on that hot dog,” wet laughter and mouthsful of salt water. If some are lucky, they may preserve a memory that will last all during the dull days of the next week.
It happens every summer Sunday.
You can’t be a life guard for more than a couple of weeks without saving a few case histories for the future.
As most young men in their late teens, I had a normal interest in girls. But then, as now, I always seemed to be so involved in a job that I never had time to develop many promising acquaintances. But despite that, at Coney Island, I discovered the one aspect of the female personality that seems to be common to all women. ( Continued on page 80)