As far back as junior year in high school, the word on Robby was “he gets more ass than a toilet seat.” Those of us who were getting bubkus could never figure out how or why he was having so much success in the back of his dad’s ‘59 Impala, but we sure envied him. Mind you, it’s not like he was nailing all the cheerleaders and majorettes, but he wasn’t bottom fishing either, and any one of us would have glady traded places with him.

We all stayed pretty tight through college and Nam, although some of the guys lucked out in the lottery and others, like me, did our duty but kept our asses safely out of the jungle. Robby saw some action in Khe San, but to hear him tell it the real action was in Saigon, and he apparently continued to outperform toilet seats there, too.

I saw Robby for the last time at our 25th reunion. He was divorced from both Janine and #2, and wasn’t doing well health-wise. He’s gone now. He had an OK life, I guess, but I stopped envying him a long time ago.