COMITY WITH A COED

There I was, sitting so formally in my German class with my feet together and on the floor, stiffly in my seat, with my round-shouldered back vertical, hands folded loosely on the desktop when I noticed this chic next to me aggressively crossing her legs in my direction and leaning my way.  She was a thing so hard to ogle me that her nearest shoulder was almost as high as her chin.  I immediately slumped back in my chair and thrust my legs out to cross them at the ankle. 

Looking at her with as natural a smile as I could eke out and muster; she grasped her Magen David on her necklace nervously.  She had passed notes in class to me lots of times and was comfy talking to me in the realm of class topics but had not yet dared to get too friendly, though it was tacitly understood that we liked each other.  It all started when he noticed that I was sitting next to her every day.  I couldn't change now without being conspicuous.

"I need such help on my homework I'll die, because I'll never, ever pass!" she fretted while I smiled to encourage her.

I gladly patronized, recognizing the imperative and her feminine touche, and proceeded to open my book.  I continued to straighten her out as she expected.  As esoterics this seemed to  me she was distracted and so I let her interject her two-cents worth of "gee-whizz."  

She went on with such sotto voce I couldn't hear but feigned to understand her with susseration with periodic nods.  I naturally exuded such self-confidence that her eyes flared, dilating without a blink, and her eyebrows leaped giving away her poor impressionable soul.

Somehow, by telepathy or something, we got around to my "pet mania."  I am glad to talk politics with anyone if they can endure my conversation wiles without umbrage.  I couldn't wait to talk with her about it and always tried to give clues of my willingness by using a political tract as a bookmark knowing she was hypersensitive from the McGovern bumper-sticker still on her car like a sore loser.

"I'll bet you know who won that mock-election, don't you?"
"Of course,"  I asserted quite brusquely with my overtones of reassurance.
"Ab ... Steelman ... He won? By that much?"
"Are you going to vote?"  I skillfully evaded her by answering with another question.
"No, I haven't ever voted.  I'm too awfully young.  It seems like my opinions are never important...."
I inadvertently interrupted her but she kept her composure.  She kept quiet, acknowledging my masculinity--and I resumed the lead in the conversation.

"Here's a brochure of the candidate I'm pushing if you're interested."
She rebounded back into her chair and attempted posture as she glanced it over:  I could sense her attempt as she slid both feet as far under her chair as she could.
"Oh!  He's a Republican."  She disgustedly flipped it back; crossing her arms in aloofness; moving away from me in her chair; sitting more formally; squealing:  "Are you a Democrat or a Republican?"

When I answered "I am neither a Republican nor a Democrat" I reversed it and pronounced the latter dysphemistically while gritting my teeth.  She was too sensitive to raw manners, losing all objectivity.

Then she lost her equilibrium shifting her weight back and forth on the chair: She was leaning slightly back and then forward, fidgeting with "pen-in-mouth"  I naturally assumed our attitudinal disparity blocked any further spontaneous communication.  Her congeniality with me digressed into mere rote: She could no longer look me in the eye trying to restrain frank remarks.  I was discomfiting sitting there when she couldn't even admit this guise to herself.

I was going to reconcile us somehow.  When the teacher asked me to dispense other "opinions" I had a clue.  Approaching her desk I deliberated to give her time.  As I just happened to be looking at her, I serendipitously saw those flaring brown eyes gazing at me.  She blushed and we emitted atoning smiles.

This was no ordinary coed that earned my magnanimous pardon.