_sarah_

The date: 12 September, 1993
My age: 16
His age: 22

The situation: We'd met at the coffee shop, and I found him intriguing. He wore a beret and a pea coat, and he was constantly reading Kafka, Burroughs, Kerouac, and Sexton. I had just been exposed to the world of sex, drugs, and punk/alternative, so my little teenager-in-a-repressed-Catholic-household hormones were raging. I asked him to go to Homecoming with me, and he accepted.

We spent several nights hanging out at the coffee shop and his shared apartment. He was living with a friend of ours who had just graduated, and I often went over there during my long lunch period (yay, senior study hall) and after school. Amanda gave me a bunch of her old clothes, and I started ditching the white sweaters and pink t-shirts.

Pretty soon, I was the little punk rock grrrrl and alterna-britpop-girl that had always been there. My world had been opened up to me.

The date: 12 October, 1993

I took Ross out to Dead Man's Hill. It's this wooded, scenic area about twenty miles from Gaylord. In addition to hiking, you can make out without having the cops bug you. It's called Dead Man's Hill because a lumberjack was crushed by a log cart while bringing it down the hill. (The dumbass was in FRONT of it when it went out of control).

Location: Backseat of my Horizon
Music: The Church

I'm wearing my Doc Martens, fishnets, a green plaid skirt, and a black Dead Kennedys t-shirt. I changed into this at Amanda's since my parents wouldn't let me out in anything but jeans and a sweatshirt. Ross and I were in the backseat making out. I'd only ever been kissed a couple times before this by my stupid 10th grade boyfriend (who kissed like a vacuum cleaner fish), so I was enveloped in sensations.

I can still remember the taste of his cigarettes, the smell of his skin, the feeling of his wool coat under my hands, and the knowledge that he was such a gentleman, given the circumstances. It didn't hit me then, but I deprived that boy something awful. I didn't MEAN to... it's just that I was still a virgin and not quite comfortable with going further, and to me this WAS a satisfactory evening.

Under the shirt... no bra... Calvins in a ball under the seat, indeed.

We stopped at some point, after he kissed my neck. He never pressured me. He was always kind and never whined about my nervousness.

Homecoming was fun. We spent most of it in the car getting high and kissing while listening to the Clash. He professed his love for me, and I turned him down because I was about to graduate and move away and start my life and so on... and at 16, someone who's a month from 23 is worlds ahead of you. Anyway, I never saw him after that.

A week ago, a mutual acquaintance gave me Ross' phone number. I called. He was excited to know how I was doing. We talked, and we made a plan for me to stop by his new place on my way downstate.

I think making a boy wait ten years for a trip up your skirt is long enough. He doesn't know of my intentions, but that's fine with me.

Now where did I put that Dead Kennedys t-shirt...