“Men! They’re All Alike!”

“I’ll Never Fall In Love Again”

Listen to this story, “Men! They’re All Alike!”


This short story, while using names of specific established characters, seems to be based more on a universal truth expressed in the art of fiction rather than on actual events in time. Stylistically, it is placed among Julie’s earlier writing.

*****

“Oh, men! They’re all alike!” These emphatic words came from the lips of a vivacious but frustrated blonde as she bounded into the apartment and flung the door shut with a resounding slam that echoed through the walls of the empty room. In an instant, there appeared from an adjoining room a sleepy little brunette in pin curls and bathrobe.

“Well, good morning,” she said. “What’s your problem now?”

The other girl forced a smile. “Well, it’s not my fault it’s 2 a.m. You know Matt. Anyway—” But she stopped.

“Anyway, what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Carolyn looked at the youthful figure clad in the blue formal she had purchased just a week ago and the wilted orchid drooping from her shoulder.

“Okay, Gloria,” Carolyn sighed. “What happened between you and Matt?”

Gloria hung her head. “Oh,” she sputtered, “he just doesn’t understand the dignity of a college girl, and he cracked silly jokes all the time at the party. And then when he had to usher in Sunday morning at Prospect Point—that did it! He acted so childishly, and we didn’t have a bit of fun.”

“Well, you must remember,” Carolyn tried to sympathize, “that Matt is fourteen months younger than you are. You knew that before you started going with him, but you said it didn’t matter.”

“I didn’t think it did then,” Gloria admitted, “but believe me,” and she shook her head, “I’m through with men—for good!”

Carolyn laughed unbelievingly. But Gloria, ignoring her, went to bed.

The days passed. Gloria and Matt broke up. As Carolyn expected, Gloria soon met another “dream.” His name was Ken—tall, handsome, and 24—and came from Carolyn’s hometown.

Gloria came in one day on Cloud Nine and almost tripped over the lamp by the sofa. Carolyn, watching from the kitchen, knew something was up. Gloria flung her books onto the floor, flopped into the big old easy chair, and announced dreamily, “I’ve got a date with a fabulous Marine tonight.”

Carolyn sighed. “Who is it?” she asked as a matter of routine.

The stars came out in Gloria’s eyes and she sighed, “Ken Nelson,” then she told Carolyn all about him.

“Oh, Gloria, hon,” Carolyn said, “I know what Ken’s really like—we went to school together—and he just isn’t your type. He’s a big playboy; he’s got one in every port.”

But Gloria, starry-eyed and lightheaded, wouldn’t listen. “You don’t know what he’s like now. He’s different, so much more mature than Matt. You just don’t know,” she would say. “He’s different!”

“He’s different.” That’s the way it always was; that’s what Gloria had said every time.

“Okay,” Carolyn said out loud. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

So every night at eight sharp Ken phoned, and every Saturday night—Carolyn could count on it—Ken and Gloria went someplace together. And as the weeks passed, their friendship grew steadily stronger. But it wasn’t all “kid stuff” that Gloria talked about, Carolyn noticed. Gloria seemed to be pretty levelheaded and serious about this guy. Carolyn thought maybe she was wrong for once. At least Ken was making more progress than Matt or Tom or Harry or anyone else who had ever gone with Gloria. But then, it was about time Gloria settled down. And the more Gloria talked, Carolyn was just about convinced that this time it was for good.

Then one day Carolyn heard rumors that Gloria and Ken were fighting and almost ready to call it quits. Carolyn couldn’t quite believe this nonsense about her best friend. Gloria had said nothing to her; but, of course, Gloria wouldn’t say anything. And Ken did have a hot temper….

So Carolyn simply waited and watched. Lately, Gloria didn’t seem to be nearly as excited about the whole affair as she first was. No more hitting the ceiling when the phone rang, no more long unlimited chatter about Ken late at night when Carolyn was trying to sleep, no more little girlish squeals of delight when Gloria was relating to Carolyn all the details of a date. Gloria didn’t seem to be unhappy, however; but a quiet happiness was new to Gloria’s makeup. Should Carolyn be suspicious to think that maybe Gloria and Ken were calling it quits? Or was she just being naïve to believe that Gloria had settled down and learned to control her emotions of what she thought was love?

Then one Saturday night the inevitable happened. Carolyn came home early—around eight-thirty—and both girls were very startled to see each other. Gloria was startled because Carolyn was supposed to work until ten, and Carolyn was startled to even find Gloria home at this hour on a Saturday night. And she wasn’t even getting ready to go out. There she sat in her robe curled up in the big chair with a magazine in her hand and a box of chocolates by her side—the last box of chocolates that Ken would ever give her. Carolyn almost knew what was wrong—she spied a wadded tissue on the floor behind the chair.

“Is Ken—ill?” Carolyn asked gingerly.

“No,” was the sulky reply.

“Then he’s out of town?”

Gloria shook her head. “Can’t you guess?” she said sarcastically.

“Well,” drawled Carolyn, “I’ve heard a few rumors—”

“Well, you heard right! Ooh, he just flew off the handle simply because I walked two little blocks from the malt shop with Jim Donaldson. And I’ve seen him plenty of times with Ella or Sandra or Sarah—and I was dumb enough to believe that they trapped him. Brother! He’s so selfish and…and childish! It’s a good thing I found out now.”

Carolyn could have said a lot of things. Her mind went back to a night many months ago when she had heard the words from those same lips: “Ken’s so mature.” “Ken’s different.”

Carolyn could only smile sympathetically while in her heart she thought, “Well, Gloria dear, maybe someday you’ll learn—maybe someday.”

Just then Gloria sprang to her feet, flung her magazine aside, and just before she disappeared into her room she repeated those same old familiar words: “Oh, men!” she exclaimed. “They’re all alike!”