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Nympholepsy
- Gallaudet University Press
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188 Jed Gallimore Nympholepsy Coined in 1775 (by Richard Chandler, in “Travels in Greece”) was nympholepsy, on the model of epilepsy, with a second element from the stem of Gk. lambanein “to take;” defined as “a state of rapture supposed to be inspired in men by nymphs; esp. an ecstasy or frenzy caused by desire for the unattainable.” I used to watch her almost every day, because her apartment was right opposite mine on Rains Avenue. She and sometimes her boyfriend would stand outside on the steps to smoke. When I had a break between classes at Stanford, I watched by the window and used to look down at her steps, but I saw her progressively less and less. But I found her name on the roster in the Theater class, and I knew her name was Monica. She came to the Theater class with me sometimes, though she didn’t know. I’d sit next to her and sometimes I helped answer her questions on homework. Once we spent several hours studying together. There were other students, but I couldn’t help getting glimpses of her. When it was almost midnight I felt her leaning against me, just as we were done with our group project. She was being friendly, not being serious. But I felt her become still and the sorrow hit me as acutely as ever. I almost wished we had been killed together, at that moment, with her leaning against my arm when we were perhaps closest. I noticed that she liked to wear her pale blue jacket every morning, with a small scarf around her throat, as she walked seriously to class. She had a wonderful skin, brown, as if she had been to the beach often. Her cheeks would turn pink when she was animated, and she had the most penetrating brown eyes. The days I spent watching her, I always imagined things—even the simple things like sitting in a car with her, listening to radio, watching her toss her long hair back, her mouth lip-syncing a song I can’t remember now. One evening there was a noisy house party near the campus. I took three shots of tequila and put on my best jeans and shirt, and went with my friend, Robert. He was an easy person, with no great traits except for the fact he was gifted in math. He had a great sense of humor, polite and conventional. All evening I stood with him, internally groaning because I didn’t see Monica. But at the party the next night at Robert’s apartment finally I did. I had paper and pen ready, in case she wanted to give me her phone number or email address. She looked the same; she still had a certain animation that I liked. She wore thrifty clothes so she didn’t have trendy taste like other girls. All the time, she was standing beside her boyfriend, who was tall with a basketball jersey, very athletic looking. Main_Pgs_1-330.indd 188 3/28/2012 10:24:55 AM Jed Gallimore 189 There were many beer bottles in the tub and the music was loud and I felt so heavily buzzed, I didn’t see her at first. She was sitting on the edge of the tub. I sat on the stool at the sink where I spotted her in the mirror. It was a surprise. I couldn’t look at her directly because the light in the bathroom was very bright. Then she was standing beside me. I had been drinking too much so I didn’t feel nervous when I said “hello.” My hands were shaking a little, though. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a tiny tank top. She had large saggy breasts, with arms both smooth and creamy. She looked at me, and said, “Hi, what’s your name?” “Stephen.” “I’m Monica. Didn’t I see you around here?” “Yeah, you’re in my class.” “Oh, what class?” “Theater class.” “Oh, yeah. I mean, right. I’ve seen you,” she laughed, and turned away. I heard her talk to someone, “Karen, we’re totally bored. Do you want to stay? Yeah? Be a friend and let us borrow your car.” Then, “Okay, fine. I’ll ask Robert.” I drank several beers and went back to my apartment and my room. It surprised me that she didn’t remember me. It was like she thought I was boring. I felt...