depo girl, park girl

(It seems these two, not Amy, are the last romantic connections to be recollected...several years after i finished the first draft of the memoir. If you're following along chronologically, pardon this backtrack [though it's vaguely possible the first part is a fast forward].)
WOMEN 35-36
depo provera girl
The memory of her is murky...i'm not even 100% sure she existed. The memories seem too detailed to be a dream, yet i can't place her chronologically in a way that feels right. I can't recall how we met, but we dated in my fourth(?) year of undergrad. She was younger. She had a second-floor apartment in the middle of town, with a window overlooking the street. It was very cool, we could look out at the people below, and all through the night the sounds of street life never died away completely. That window was abnormally low, and i remember very much wanting to have sex with her from behind, while she kneeled and leaned out the window, but we never did. She didn't have any connection to the theater department, and seemed almost too normal for me. I mean that in both directions; i was faintly mystified over what she saw in me. She was attractive, fun, a bit tall, with long dark hair, and maybe a league below me in intellect. She was on depo provera, a hormone birth control...patches, i think? We either had sex for a month or less, or had a relationship that was sexual but unconsummated, perhaps because we started to get into some physical/emotional issues she had, and the relationship became one of therapy. I remember singing Monty Python's "Medical Love Song" as i drove away from her building, maybe for the last time. Our affair ended abruptly but benignly, and why, i can't remember.
park girl
A hazy college memory. She was one of those outdoorsy hippiesque girls who are the coolest girls in the world, and she had a grad school level brain. We had one memorable date in a state park. We explored, we ran, we had fun...we made out, and it was great. We got naked. I remember her giving me a lesson on how i'd always be able to tell fake boobs from real. The real ones would sag to the side when the girl was on her back, and the fake ones would point up. I laughed, and affirmed my preference for real. We went back to town, and she was everything i could have wanted...yet i let her fade out of my life. I kicked myself for walking away, even while i was doing it. Maybe she was too real and available, and i was afraid of failing...maybe something else didn't feel quite right...and maybe i couldn't get past her saggy breasts. They really fell to the side, in retrospect more than average breasts, which was a strange effect, as she was in good shape. Don't bust my chops, i've done so plenty for both of us. But i still had had almost no experience with real breasts. Living in this repressed society, virtually all of my familiarity with breasts was through movies...and at the time, i still couldn't fully grasp how movie breasts were different from real ones.