(Connie, Yvonne, Sarah, and Tipton were real people, but this story is not what really happened. Just what I wish had happened.)
Reputation. That was the name of the game for most of the women at the small university I was attending in 1970. You either had a bad one or a good one, and your whole future depended on which one you had.
The Sexual Revolution was all around us, but it was just filtering through the walls of our little institution. "Women" were mostly still called girls there. Their reason for being in college was to get a suitable husband, so that they might follow in the footsteps of their mothers, birthing cute little rich babies, attending church functions, and taking care of their husbands.
The best candidates for husband came from money and had their futures secured by family ties. They wanted wives with good reputations as little trophies for their mantles and as servants for any and every sexual whim. Wives who could attend corporate functions, entertain at home, and take charge of the house and kids. Wives who wouldn't be talked about behind their backs for things that were done in college. Wives with great reputations, but also skilled in the bedroom.
Connie was a potential wife like that. A good girl from a good family in Dallas, in college to meet Mr. Rich, marry him, and have his children. She would tell you that up front, if she knew you well enough. And she had the physical goods to accomplish that goal. Her face was plain, but she had blond hair and a body honed by high school gymnastics. She was cheerful, sweet, and virginal.
And that was the problem. In another age, virginity would have been a prerequisite for capturing a suitable mate, but in the Sexual Revolution age, it had almost become a deal-breaker. Men wanted a wife who was not only a good hostess but also great in the sack. And they wanted to "try before buying". That made things very tough, because getting that sexual experience almost always led to the kiss of death for husband hunters: the Bad Reputation.
Connie's roommate Sarah had the Bad Reputation. She had come (as had Connie and most other girls at this church affiliated, expensive and exclusive little school) to find someone to take care of her. In her first year, she went off the rails a bit with her new freedom. She took her eyes off the prize. She let herself be seduced. It might have been okay, had her seducer been discrete, but he was not. News of her loose morals spread across campus, from dorm room to locker room, and her fate was sealed. She might find a husband and complete her assigned task, but life was going to be much harder than it would have been otherwise. Maybe she would have to switch colleges, move out of state, or settle for someone less eligible.
Connie and Sarah had an interesting relationship. They were very close friends, but they moved in different social circles. That fact was dictated by the type of reputation each possessed. Connie went to church functions, sporting events, organized socials, and formal fraternity dinners. Sarah had guys calling her up from phone numbers written on restroom walls. She went to bars far from campus that wouldn't check her ID. She could be found at frat house beer busts.
Each of them envied the other, in some ways. Sarah saw in Connie the lost opportunity. She knew her life would have been totally different if she had just done something different that night in her freshman year. Connie heard Sarah's tales of sex in the back seats of cars and knew that her own experience of life was so limited. Sarah seems so much more confident, while Connie was so much safer.
All three of us were sophomores, and I met Connie first. She and I were lab partners in Biology, and she was also the TA for my Economics professor. I was nowhere on Connie's radar for husband material. Not that I was bad looking, but I was at college on scholarship, not on "daddy's money", and that was my disqualification. It took her one look to rule me out as a potential husband, but she was still sweet to me as a human being. I soon began to look forward to lab on Thursday afternoons. As we began to know each other better, she would call me to tell me my grades on Economics quizzes. She actually graded those tests, but I never needed her to "help" those grades, so giving me a call was just a friendly thing she did. She really was a sweet and friendly girl, but with a single-minded focus on her future.
Connie had an older sister, a senior, and if it hadn't been for her, there probably wouldn't be a story to tell you. Connie's sister, Yvonne, was failing in her prime objective. Nearing graduation, Yvonne was without a husband or a realistic prospect of obtaining one. Apparently, this failure resonated throughout the family. Their father had sent the girls to this rather exclusive school, investing his money in them, and they were not giving him the return on that investment that he was expecting. Both girls were desperate to please Daddy, but they were at a loss as to how to accomplish that.
Yvonne was a lot like Connie. That is to say, she was blond and virginal. She had a somewhat less beautiful figure and she was a bit heavy on the religious stuff. She hadn't gotten on board with the changes happening in society, and most men found her to be stuffy and old fashioned. Connie loved her sister, but she decidedly did not want to share her un-marriageable fate. So, she brought her plan to me, her smart and capable friend in Biology.
"Paul, can we go have a coke after lab?" she asked that Thursday.
"Uh, a coke? Mmm, sure, I guess. I don't have to go anywhere. What's going on?"
"Nothing," she said slowly, looking down at the lab bench. "I just want somebody to talk to now. I've been thinking about, well, doing something. And I want your opinion. Maybe your help, too."
"That's cool. But if it's about changing your hair style or something, my opinion will be pretty worthless," I replied.
When we got to the local drug store/soda shop, she picked the far back booth and we sat on opposite sides of the table. I can still remember the place, which hadn't changed since at least the early 50s. Everybody who's seen an episode of Happy Days knows what I'm talking about, and those joints really did exist.
"I'm thinking about doing something," Connie said, after we got our drinks and made a few jokes about our Biology prof. "Would you just listen to me, tell me what you think? But ya gotta promise not to ever tell anybody, okay?"
"Sounds like you might be going to kill somebody, and my advice would be not to do it. The fact that Laura wore the same dress as you to the party is not grounds to kill her. Let it pass," I said, trying to be charming and deadpan.
"This is pretty serious to me, so would you just shut up and listen?"
"Sure. Sorry." I leaned forward, elbows on the table, and put on my attentive face.
"Things aren't going so well with my love life," she began. "By that I mean I don't have any love life. I don't have any experience that way at all. I've had good-night kisses and have brushed off a few passes, and that's it. And, I don't have a steady boyfriend."
I wanted to say, "I'm shocked," but I knew she was being serious.
"I hear other girls talking about having sex with their boyfriends, and I don't have a clue what it's all about. I took Biology, and I know all the mechanics and stuff. But I've never done the lab work, if you know what I mean..."
I thought to myself, "She's pretty clever with that Biology metaphor. There's a lot more here than an uptight blond coed." Sensing she wanted me to respond at this point, I nodded, smiled and began to talk.
"So, you want to have some experience. Get some confidence about, well, about sexuality and stuff? But you don't want it to get around. You don't want to get the wrong reputation." I was winging it. Saying stuff out loud to hear what it sounded like. Explaining it to myself as much as responding to what she was saying. And I was beginning to understand where she was headed.
