I was a senior at a small private high school circa 1960. I knew it was 1960 because I was wearing saddle shoes and a poodle-ish skirt and my hair was in a flip. Anyway, Don Draper was my professor in a class about advertising. He was not “Don Draper, ad exec,” teaching a class, he was just a professor who happened to teach an advertising class. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a professorial sweater and slacks, not a slick Madison Avenue suit.
Our first assignment was to make our own ads, and we were supposed to be critiquing each other’s assignments. Another girl was the first up, and people said some harsh things about her that I can’t remember. Then she burst into tears, and Professor Draper declared that we were no longer going to be critiquing each other’s work. I raised my hand and asked, “How are we supposed to be better without peer input?” And he said, “It hurt Sally’s feelings.” So I started arguing with him that we women could take the criticism and he ended up yelling, “WE’RE NOT DOING IT ANYMORE. THAT’S FINAL!” Which silenced me. Then he asked to see me after class.
So I waited around until everyone had left the small round schoolroom. I was looking out the window and there was brilliant fall folliage everywhere. Then he came up behind me and we started making out. He said, “I can’t do this, I could get fired,” so we agreed to meet later on.
Then I was at some pep rally and my best friend from high school (in real life!) was there. We ran into each other in the locker room and I swore her to secrecy about my rendezvous with Professor Draper. She promised not to tell anyone, saying, “I never told anyone about you and Ed,” who was an actual guy I made out with in high school and told her about. She was also wearing saddle shoes.
I was on my way to meet Professor Draper…
And then I woke up.
