Word: graded
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...Dave. Why would you call someone you hadn't seen since fourth grade for a cross country blind date? Desperation, Dave, desperation...
Trapped in the driver's seat, on his way to an invitation to humiliation with us as his safety net companions, Dave's pretense of self-defense just wasn't working. The fact that he'd invited us along was proof of his uncertainty about fourth grade love...
...Five bucks baby." Adam was gloating; she's got to be fat, only fat girls call fourth grade lovers, only lonely, sweaty, sexually confused consumers of Harlequins, bon bons, and small teddy-bears and poodles track down, call up, and invite up the fourth grade boy from next door. It was a certainty that floated in our rental car with malignant intensity, putting Dave on the defensive and the speedometer at 55. Suddenly Dave wasn't in a hurry to get there...
...that we were about to be trapped, mobbed and burned by ferocious hordes of Smith women too long victimized by male invaders. "No!" we would scream, as they tied us to the stake, "No! We're not marauders. We are but simple voyagers to the innocent days of fourth grade past. Avast, ye scurvy broads, we bring not lechery and disease, but valentines and tootsie-roll pops." Well, maybe we wouldn't say that, but it was a hell of a scenario. Meanwhile, the little Animal House devil was dancing before our minds, urging us on towards the dorm...
...terrace as they shook hands, sparkles flashing from their corn polished teeth, drowning out Adam's smirk and my vision of Cappi. She wasn't Cappi and she wasn't fat. I had been betrayed, Adam had lost five dollars, Dave was stuck with shaking hands, and fourth grade love was a bust...