A Real Pisser

One other thing that came out of my relationship with Peter L was Sandy M. I met her at one of the campaign rallies for Roy Goodman. She lived on West 86^th Street and her father was the Horowitz of Horowitz and Margaretten Matzohs. This impressed Peter to no end and to both our surprise she accepted my invitation to see a movie. My parents were thrilled that I should be dating a girl with such obvious links to the upper social classes, and one whose name was revered throughout the Jewish community. Well, matzohs or no matzohs, Amanda was one weird girl. I mean she was pleasant company and all that, but there were some aspects of this girl’s behavior that really shocked me. First of all, I wasn’t all that sophisticated in these kinds of relationships. Therefore, on the first date, when she excused herself three times to go to the ladies room during the movie, I didn’t think much about it but rather was focused in on her willingness to smooch and rub her body against mine. In fact, it wasn’t until a month or so later, on our fourth or fifth date, that I realized she had some physical or psychological problem with her urinary tract. I had been ignoring the obvious problem when one evening, in the dead of winter, with the temperature below zero, she insisted that I stop my car on the Bronx River Parkway so she could run into the woods. I think that was the straw that broke the camel’s back because I had this vision, while she was off in the woods, of what it would be like to live with a person who had to piss every half hour. I dropped her off at her plush apartment house and headed east to Astoria where, while the girls weren’t even close to being in the ruling class, they had firm control over their bladders.