"Player"

Here's something unusual for me: A one-part story!

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 1983.

Kyle, a college sophomore, was what we in modern times would call a "player." The kind of guy who bought half a dozen -- or more --Valentine's Day cards for his many girlfriends, each of them bearing a sentiment similar to "To My One and Only..."

One Thursday morning in January, a knock on the door of Kyle's dorm room announced the arrival of his latest sexual conquest, a naïve freshman named Margie. Kyle had fit time in between his other three girlfriends to "de-virginize" Margie almost two months ago, after heavily laying on his usual patter of undying love and faithful dedication.

So, Kyle was Margie's first, and Margie was his... Well, by this time, he'd long lost count.

After exchanging their brief hellos, followed by a lackluster hug, Margie slumped down on the couch without even removing her coat.

"What's up?" he asked, feigning concern.

"I'm late."

Oh, terrific, thought Kyle. That again! These dumb broads like to use their silly little code words whenever there's a problem. So now this bimbo has gotten knocked up? Don't any of these idiots believe in birth control? He thought for a moment. Nahhh, only the sluts know how to protect themselves. These prissy young things don't.

Luckily, Kyle had a speech prepared for this moment.

"Hey, look, Margie, this isn't as bad as it seems. You chicks have all sorts of complicated crap going on in your plumbing, ya know? Hell, you're probably not even pregnant. But if you get checked out, and it turns out that you are, I'll... well, I'll try to help, if you wanna get rid of it. I can't afford much, though... college expenses, and all, ya know... but if I can, I will." Yeah, sure I will.

She wasn't speaking. No surprise there. She wasn't used to this sort of thing; he certainly was.

"Well?" he said, almost impatiently.

"Thanks," she said, nodding as if she'd come to some sort of agreement within herself.

"Thanks?" he repeated. Was she being sarcastic, or was she gullible enough to believe his well-rehearsed line of drivel? He remembered a line from the M*A*S*H TV show: "Sincerity. I can fake that." So, had she bought it? He suppressed a grin as he tentatively asked, "Thanks for what?"

She stood, and headed for the door. "Thanks... for showing me the real you." As she opened the door, preparing to exit Kyle's dorm room, she turned back to look at him, shaking her head.

"Wh-what...?" stammered Kyle.

"Not that you'd care, nor remember, but I told you I'd be here by ten, and it's almost eleven. So I'm late... you dumb-ass."

And out she went.

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Thanks for your time.