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OT. My First Date


thebes

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I've been writing a few short stories for a website set up for my 40th high school reunion. Although it has nothing to do with our hobby I thought I'd post it anyways because it turned out pretty well and might invoke some memories.

My First Date

I do believe it was the summer before I started high school

but it could have been the summer after. I was 14 or 15 and shared a paper

route with a guy from the next neighborhood over. Wed been doing this for about two years, became friends and did

a few things together. Many times his

kid sister, who was about a year younger than me, would be hanging around and

getting under foot.

One day we were at the McKinley Park pool and she (Judy was

her name) comes out of the changing room in a cute little flowered bikini. Not a teeny weenie bikini as the song goes,

but a more modest affair with probably double the cloth. Amazingly she had grown some bumps on her

chest, not full-fledged affairs but sort of proto bumps.

Suddenly her smile had become more engaging and her

conversation more interesting.

It took a couple of weeks to finally broach the subject with

her brother over the possibility of a date.

He polled his parents, who seemed to like me, and cleared the way.

I did a lot better than I had expected and with only a

little stammering I asked her out, she smiled and said

YES!

It was to be a simple affair, a Friday night bus ride

downtown; a double feature, and back before 10.

My preparations were simple but thorough. A good wash in the tub (no showers in our

house) loafers with white socks, and crisply pressed slacks and a short sleeve

shirt (thanks for the ironing Mom!). A close look in the mirror revealed my

bi-weekly shave wasnt needed but a liberally applied splash of Canoe would

mask the smell of the industrial strength soap used in our household.

Before leaving I scoped the neighborhood out through the

window, checking to see who was out of their front porches and playing in the

street. In our block alone there were over 20 kids a microcosm of what the

returning GIs marines and sailors had visited upon an unsuspecting nation.

The fumes of a quart of Canoe would readily give the game

away resulting in pithy comments from parents and hoots of derision from my

fellow miscreants. Besides, I didnt

want my buddies to know there was a cute girl only two blocks away.

Spying a break in the action, I moved quickly and got off of

my block unscathed. My memory starts to

get very hazy though, right after I hit the doorbell to Judys house. Most of the rest of the evening was a

blank. I remember getting on the bus,

self-conscious and feeling that all eyes were on us. We chatted a bit although

I couldnt hear her replies over the heart-hammering adrenaline rush. I think I had worked up the courage to put

my arm around her by the second feature but that may be memory as pure bravado.

I do remember, though, the Goodnight Kiss. They say the first is the sweetest. I say it was pure ambrosia. The touch of her silky blonde hair, the

subtle smell of perfume and the soft down above her lip caught by the porch

light as I leaned in for my reward. It

was only a swift peck but it launched me happily into exploring one of the

worlds most enduring mysteries: women.

It was pure puppy love and didnt last much beyond the

summer. I considered it good training

though, and prepared to use my newfound skills in pursuit of others as school

started.

Much to my dismay, however, Bishop Ludden High School had a

nasty surprise in store.

The architect had designed this brand new facility with four

wings, a science wing, an administrative/gym/cafeteria wing, and two classroom

wings with a chapel placed squarely at the meeting point of all four. The nuns

and priests who would run the school had hatched a most nefarious plot and

placed all the girls in one classroom wing and us guys in the other. We were here and they were there.

Couples could get together by strolling around the chapel

during lunchtime but otherwise contact during school hours was almost non-existent. Some in desperation surrendered their

manhood by signing up for home economics courses. Others, like me, found a ***** in the armor by signing up for

typing classes, which were only taught by the nuns. They were boys-only classes but were held in the womens wing so

you got to peek around a bit between classes.

The rest of my time over there was spent in pecking out a poorly

written, immature underground page I called the Rabble Rouser.

Soon, however, various rituals grew up which allowed us to

hook up with the girls. One of the

most useful was the Telephone Hook-up.

If you had an eye on a girl youd approach one of her friends to get a

phone number. God help you if you used

one of your buddies for this purpose.

Theyd always spill the beans to the other guys and the mocking would be

savage an unrelenting.

If the girl was interested or just in need of a good laugh,

youd get the number, a time to call, and some evening with trembling hands

youd pick up the phone.

For some strange reason, at various times I thought I could

make headway with some of the prettiest girls in the school and a couple of

times I succeeded in getting their phone numbers. Problem was, not only was I out of their class, I wasnt very

good at all at the Telephone Hook-up.

Protocol dictated that youd start of with some smoothly

delivered tangential line like Do you know what the homework assignment is for

Spanish and then maybe move onto to talk about something like music. Which was

very lame because, again, we didnt take classes together. Id be so nervous it would come out

something like: Gurgle, Spanish Beatles, gack, gotta go pee, goodbye.

Now I could kid myself and pretend that the laughter coming

over the phone from her room was the TV, but I suspect it was all her

girlfriends gathering for the occasion to enjoy the show.

The only thing worse was the rare instances when a girl

would actually call me to various expressions of shock and laughter from my

parents, siblings and the house on either side of me.

Im sure dating is much simpler today.

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I'd waited and longed for the pretty little girl down the street. It took me 2 years to ask her out and she laughed so loud it scared me. She had known all along I was wanting to take her out. Her dad drove us to the Arlington theatre. I still feel his eyes threatening me in the mirror. Good time although we were both nervous as could be. I'm not sure what was playing but it may have been one of the "Beach Blanket Bingo" flicks. First kiss is stll on my lips. We dated for a couple of years honorably until I joined the Marines. We lost touch for a couple of years and were re-introduced as a blind date. We're still friends and laugh about it occasionally. Nice girl. First crush. Treasures.

Thanks for the smile

Harry

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Ah Thebes - you had it easy!!

All boys school - the girl's equivalent school was over a mile away and apparently guarded by machine gun nests, minefields and a series of teachers whose sole job was to inflict misery on the youth of the day.

They didn't even let us share buses on the way home.

If we were to meet girls it had to be in a social setting - with little common ground (shared homework assignments for example) to open the conversation. The girls made this job far harder by hanging around in packs. To brave going up to a girl was to face the whimsy of a gaggle of onlookers and a torrent of half heard whispers, giggles and sometimes some pointing.

All this was to change on entering university - so I promised myself. I had planned a steady stream of wild oats. Within 3 days I got lucky - oh happy day - what joys were in store for the rest of my college career.....well, it didn't quite go according to plan. I married her - that was 23 years ago.

One oat - wildish, maybe. So much for the sexual revolution!

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Thanks for checking in on this one guys.

Maron from your comment I'm guessing you got to date her too? [:D]

Max, I turned down an acceptance at the Christian Brothers Academy, then the top private catholic school in the area because it was boys only. Funny thing is about solo schools in my experience it simply retards individual development rather than enhances it. In other words our immaturity stayed with us much longer than it might have. Hell, I'm still working (reluctantly) on overcoming mine. The school finally capitulated, and by my senior year we were allowed to have lunch with the girls.

It was too late, though. We immediately taught the girls the nuances of belching and food fights.

Terrible thing to hear about a fellow who gets lucky once and then marries her. I'd better send the Twins over on a goodwill mission.


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Very good story Thebes. My first "official" date was when I was in the seventh grade. Took Maclyn to the junior high dance....mother driving us....can't remember if I said a word to her the whole way there. The dance the twist was the rage and the dj had Chubby Checker cued as we arrived. After an awkward first few minutes I asked her if she would like to dance. Maclyn replied...."my mother told me I could'nt do the twist". Keep in mind this was the era when many adults thought Elvis was vulgar for gyrating his hips as he performed. So Maclyn and I danced the slow ones and I twisted the night away with other girls. She did'nt seem to mind but then again...there was no goodnight kiss[:(]

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