I never made the first move except for one time in junior high and that was by accident. We were in a crowded hallway and I was standing next to a buddy of mine and I mentioned to him that we ought go to such and such a place, I can't remember what it was. Well there was this girl standing right next to me on the other side and she thought I was talking to her so she replied "You ought to take a long walk on a short pier". It's pretty funny to look back on now, but back then it was a bit embarrassing.
High school was a rugged, brutal learning ground
Grade school didn't help
Still, it didn't stop some of us.
I wrote a couple remembrances on a thread here, of which I'll just go ahead and post again.
(I blame you and Ike for causing me to do this)
Linda
By the age of thirteen I’d mastered the art of girlfriendmanship.
The major thing about the ladies was they needed to be dazzled, swept off their feet, so to speak.
I knew this from my vast studies of Errol Flynn movies.
So, with my now astute knowledge of the opposite sex, it all came rather easy.
Take my next conquest for example.
I’ll call her ‘Linda’, mainly cause her name was (and probably still is) Linda.
I usually change the names to protect the innocent (me), but there’s nothing about Linda here that would be defamatory…pretty sure.
She had a beguiling smile…hell, all of ‘em had those beguiling smiles, but hers kinda took on a Susan Hayward look.
And, she was cool.
Never went to the same schools, as she lived in St John’s, and I lived up in the hills twenty miles outta Portland.
But I met her at swim lessons in Portland, lessons that near drowned me as I tried so hard to get hold of that long ass bamboo pole the bitch of a swim instructor kept poking at me, pushing me away from frantically hugging the edge of the pool. Very frustrating for her, as several times I’d glommed onto that pole with both arms and legs, while she tried like hell to push me off the ledge and into the deep end. I’d just climb the pole, hand over hand, like a waterborne lemur, as she’d whisk me back and forth across the pool.
It only took a half dozen lessons to figger out that one really can’t breathe water…
Linda smiled at me, thus I was smitten.
Since we didn’t have very many ways of hooking up, meeting was rather sporadic.
The next time we met was at Pier Park in St John’s.
We strolled around, holding hands…sweaty hands…a real tell in regard to my rico suave persona.
But she kept smiling and I kept sweating.
Mostly, our relationship consisted of letters and phone calls.
Letters were a snap, cause I could take my sweet time in expounding on my devil may care, swash buckling life style, but the phone calls required some fast thinking on my feet.
In my vast knowledge of the opposite sex, knowing they needed to be dazzled, my acute imagination begat that of my own version of Walter Mitty.
‘Hi, how are you?’
(I could just see her smiling that Susan Hayward smile)
‘Hi, I’m OK, now that I’m able to stitch up my shoulder.’
‘What?!’
‘Oh, it’s nuthin’, just got done fightin’ a grizzly in the back yard.’
‘Oh my god! What happened?!’
‘Well, I was choppin’ wood, and he kinda got the jump on me. So I just chopped him in the neck with my axe.’
‘Are you okay???’
‘Yeah, right now I’m stitching up my shoulder while we talk.’
‘Is the bear still there?!’
‘Naw, I chased him up the hill for several miles…had to cold camp a couple days, and lost him up in the high country.’
‘Oh, so the bear fight didn’t just happen?’
‘Uh, no…..sorta.’ (sweat)
‘Well, I gotta go. Gotta tell some folks that I’ve gotta cancel the sky diving lesson for today, so see ya.’
‘Oh, are you taking lessons?’
‘No, I teach it.’
‘Oh,’
‘Yeah, so I gotta go….bye.’ (my hands now sweat faucets)
I really don’t know what ever happened that severed our relationship.
It certainly wasn’t due to my boring life style that’s for sure.
Actually, I do remember seeing her for what was probably the last time, and somehow her smile no longer did it for me.
When I was in my mid teens, I used to think back on those times and get all embarrassed.
Then later, in my twenties, would vividly recall it all and just laugh my ass off.
one more
Janice
I was on this date.
Not just any date.
My ’54 chevy had a nice back seat.
Janice had a nice back seat.
I really didn’t know her….well, I did in the biblical sense a few times (one or two, but a few times according to locker room lore).
It was Thursday night…morning, and I’d been thru a tough week…tests…football practice…chores at home….class pressures….some fights.
I needed a release.
I picked her up after goofing around most of the night.
As usual, she yammered away at some social bullshit.
I pretended to listen while twisting knobs finding a good AM station.
Finally, I said ‘Jody, I’m sorry, but…’
‘It’s Janice.’
‘Janet, I’m sorry, but I got a game tomorrow, and think maybe we should get comfy in the back seat…and then..’
‘Uh, it’s not a good time.’
‘Good time? Hey, let me show you a good time.’
‘Yeah, uh, it’s not the right time…’
‘Are you kidding? It’s damn near 2AM? I got a game in 16 hours!’
‘I don’t mean that.’
‘Fine, let me just assist you with that little strap thing, and…’
‘I’M ON THE EFFING RAG, OK?!!!!’
'Oh'
16 year olds really do have class, but only in the classroom
