Sunday, January 2, 2011

Logic : Love is a Fallacy (Part II) ( On Every Sunday )

                             Recap:
I was a logician and I wondered why people were so emotional
like my room-mate, Petey. One day I found him laying on bed and 
desiring for a raccoon coat. And I didn't find any reason for owning
such a unsanitary coat.  While he insisted on this that he could give
anything for a raccoon coat. ANYTHING!!!


My brain, that precision instrument, slipped into high gear."Anything?" I asked, looking at him narrowly.

 "Anything" he affirmed in ringing tones.

 I  stroked my chin thoughtfully. It so happened that I knew where to get my hands on a raccoon coat. My father had had one in his undergraduate days; it lay now in a trunk in the attic back home. It also happened that Petey had something I wanted. He didn't have it exactly but at least he had first rights on it. I refer to his girl, Polly Espy.

I had long coveted Polly Espy. Let me emphasize that my desire for this young woman was not emotional in nature. She was, to be sure, a girl who exited the emotions, but I was not one to let my heart, rule my head. I wanted Polly for a shrewdly calculated, entirely cerebral reason.

I was a freshman in law school. In a few years I would be out in practice. I was well aware of the importance of the right kind of wife in furthering a lawyer's career. The successful lawyers, I had observed, were almost without exception, married to beautiful, gracious, intelligent woman. With one omission, Polly fitted these specifications perfectly.

Beautiful she was.She was not yet of pin-up proportions, but I left sure that time would supply the lack. She already had the makings.

Gracious she was. By gracious I mean full of grace. She had an erectness of carriage, an ease of bearing, a poise that clearly indicated the best of breeding. At table her manners were exquisite. I had seen her at the Kozy Kampus Korner eating the specialty of the house--a sandwich that contained scraps of pot  roast, gravy, chopped nuts, and a dipper of sauerkraut--without even getting her fingers moist. Intelligent she was not. In fact, she veered in the opposite direction. But I believed that under my guidance she would smarten up. At any rate, it was worth a try. It is, after all, easier to make a beautiful dumb girl smarter than to make an ugly smart girl beautiful.

"Petey," I said, "are you in love with Polly Espy?"

" I think she's a keen kid" , he replied, " but I don't know if you'd call it love. Why?"

"Do you," I asked, "have any kind of formal arrangement with her? I mean are you going steady or anything  like that?"

"No. We see each other quite a bit, but we both have other dates.

 Why?''

"Is there," I asked, "any other man for whom she has a particular fondness?''

"Not that I know of. Why?"

I nodded with satisfaction. " In other words, If you were out of the picture, the field would be open. Is that right?"

"I guess so. What are you getting at?"

"Nothing, nothing, " I said innocently, and took my suitcase out of the closet.

"Where are you going?" asked Petey.

"Home for the weekend." I threw a few things into the bag. " Listen, " he said, clutching my arm eagerly, "While you're home, you couldn't get some money from your old man, could you, and lend it to me so I can buy a raccoon coat?"

"I may do better than that" , I said with a mysterious wink and closed my long bag and left.

(to be continue…)
Max Schulman

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