If you look at my bio page you'd read this
Rosie: If you knew me better, you'd know that this is exactly the kind of thing that's likely to happen to me. Gettin knocked up, I mean. The point is it was my first time, I was a virgen before that. Wouldn't you know it, I'd get caught? Aside from everything else, I'm not lucky either. You see, if I were lucky, Harold and I could've succumbed to our silly little passion and that would've been that, the end of it. And New Rochelle, of all places. At least if it's been in some nice apartment in the Village, say, with the sounds coming through the window of traffic and people, the breeze blowing and the curtain over the bed, like in the movies. But no. I lost my virginity in the attic of an old house in New Rochelle. Harold's grandmother's house. On a rainy day in spring on the floor of the attic in his grandmother's house, listening to the rain on the roof, breating the dust of old things... And what comes next but his grandmother who was supposed to be in the city for the day. But instead she's suddenly standing in the door to the attic, attracted there, no doubt, by the scuffling sounds of the imminent consummation. So she's standing there, screaming :"Stop that! Stop that this instant!" Needless to say, it was out of the question. Stopping. At that particular momment. I mean, sex is like a flight over the sea, one reaches the point of no return... I guess it sounds pretty funny now, but, you know, at the time... it was pretty rotten. Sordid, I mean... it wasn't all the way it's supposed to be. And Harold, of all people. A girl finds herself in this predicament, this condition, she'd at least like to be able to think of the cause of it as being some clever, handsome guy with charm and experiance, just returned from spending a year in Rome, say, on a Guggenheim fellowsip. But Harold,... Harold is six foot two, about a hundred and twenty five pounds, tops, an Economica majot at CCNY... That's the best I'll be able to do, I know it. (/smiles and snorts./) Ever since I found out I was pregnant I've been walking around with a face down to here and my mother kept saying, "What's the matter with you, anyway, I just don't know what's gotten into you lately." So, finally, I told her: a kid named Harold, as a matter of fact... (/picks up her bag and takes out a compact. Wipes her mouth./) Oh, well, I just keep telling myself: "Remember Rosie, like in the song... my prince will some... Snow White..."
-Slowdance on the killing groung
by William Hanley
*Rosie
(a girl of 19, "singularly plain-looking with orange hair" and eyeglasses, has fainted at the doorsteps of the store. Glas, the storekeeper, has brought her in and revived her. After some three-way dialogue (Randall, the young fugaive, is also there), Rosie explains why she is in the warehouse district at night.)
-Slowdance on the killing groung
by William Hanley
*Rosie
(a girl of 19, "singularly plain-looking with orange hair" and eyeglasses, has fainted at the doorsteps of the store. Glas, the storekeeper, has brought her in and revived her. After some three-way dialogue (Randall, the young fugaive, is also there), Rosie explains why she is in the warehouse district at night.)