I'VE NEVER FELT THIS WAY ABOUT A WOMAN BEFORE!

Living in New York City, having just graduated from Graduate School, Marash Girl was dutifully looking for a position nearby, a position where she could put her newly learned skills into practice.  Searching for a school system that might be need a Guidance Counselor, she tried to call the Yonkers Public School System, but whenever she made the phone call, she found herself in an 'hollow space'. a space that was hollow, but not empty; rather it was filled with voices of other folks who were trying to call Yonkers as well.
After several failed efforts to reach Yonkers, Marash Girl chatted with the other folks who were frustrated with their efforts to reach a phone number in Yonkers as well.  The newly formed 'group', as New Yorkers were wont to do, decided to meet up at the local Automat Restaurant . . . (not a washing machine and dryer spot, as one might think today).  As we had already gotten to know each other over the telephone, seeing one another face to face added a new and exciting dimension to the adventure. We continued to chat over the phone, and one young man decided he'd like to meet Marash Girl for a date.  They did so, the handsome young man and the lovely young Marash
Girl, and as often will happen, there was some electricity, and the young man bent over and kissed the young woman, exclaiming as he did so, "I've never felt this way about a woman before!"  Marash
Girl was thrilled, as she felt as if she had never met such a handsome young man before.  But wait she did for his call, and it never came. . . Whatever could be the reason?  Back to the telephone group with her problem.
The friend of the handsome young man was on the line when she called in to share her confusion.  He counseled her.
"But didn't you know?"
"Know what?" queried Marash Girl.
"He shares an apartment with his professor."
"So , , , " replied Marash Girl.
"Well, he shares a bedroom with his professor."
"So what?" queried Marash Girl.
"Well . . . . . . . he shares a bed with his professor, and if his professor ever finds out about this, the professor will kill him!"

N.B. My husband tells me I've already written this story in my blog, but it never hurts to write it again, right?  I mean, write?