The two other white women who were hired a few months after me to work for the busiest summer months in the came Council on International Educational Exchange [C.I.E.E.] office with me, at adjacent desks, were both recent, but non-intellectual, college graduates in their 20's from Boston; and both of these women were friendly and excited about spending the summer in New York City.
After working, conversing and laughing together in the C.I.E.E. office for about a month with one of the women from Boston named Connie, who was Irish-American in her family background,, I realized I was attracted to her emotionally, as well as sexually; and I actually wrote a folk love song for her, which I no longer remember. Besides having an easygoing, humorous and warm personality, Connie also had long. light-brown hair and most men in the 1970's likely considered her to be physically beautiful.
After Connie's last day of work at C.I.E.E. in late August, I ended up taking a cab with Connie from the building in which the C.I.E.E. office was located, in UN Plaza near the United Nations buildings, across town to a West Side apartment building across the street from the Museum of Natural History, in which Connie was now going to move into and share with a friend of hers; and I helped carry some of the heavy suitcases that Connie had brought to work on her last day at C.I.E.E. both to the cab from the C.I.E.E. office and from the cab to the West Side apartment building she was moving into.
Then, realizing and feeling sad that I was no longer going to see Connie at work again each day, after Connie thanked me for helping her move her suitcases, I suddenly asked her: "Do you want to keep in touch with each other in the Fall? I liked working with you."
Looking surprised, Connie then seemed to think for a moment, before replying in a kindly tone, with a serious expression on her face: "Well, thanks for asking. I liked working with you, too. But I've only really thought of you as just a fun guy to work with and not someone I'd ever be seeing outside of work."
I was disappointed for a second with Connie's answer. But I quickly replied with a smile. "That's O.K. I understand." Then, waving to her, as I slowly turned around before walking towards the subway station on Central Park West, I laughed and said: "Well, I hope you have fun being in New York City in the Fall."
"Hope the same for you, Bob," I heard Connie call from behind me as I continued my walk to the subway station. And soon afterward I stopped singing (and eventually forgot the lyrics and tune of) the folk love song I had written for Connie but never got a chance to sing to her; and I never bumped into beautiful Connie again.