SOS is an event inspired by Brillig and Walking Kateastrophe's . To find out who else is taking part, and read some great SOS, Brillig is hosting this week. Go check it out for some soapy fun! This is my own story--an ending and a beginning, from high school to college--and the array of “older“ men that came through my life back then.
It was my high school senior year. We were allowed two days off to travel to colleges and attend their events for selling their school to potential students. My only desire was to visit the university at Ames, Iowa--where my brother had gone. The ratio of males to females was something like five to one (and I felt five males to my “one” was a good thing).
My father wanted me to check out the university at Cedar Falls, Iowa--a mere twenty minute drive from home, thus eliminating the need for housing and food expense since I could stay at home. According to my father, when they snipped my umbilical chord from Mom, he picked it up and had attached it to himself--so, in short, he said I could only go so far from home/him--and then HE would feel he could keep me safe (Dad’s are SO unrealistic. If a girl decides to do stupid, dumb, potentially harmful things, by golly, she’s going to find a way!).
Anyway, my cousin was a sophomore at the local college--so I decided to go with him to some of his classes, and he had agreed to take me to some of the scheduled events for potential students. And spending the day with my cousin was going to be a treat in itself, since he was my “other” brother, and always fun to be with.
My senior year I was pretty “buff”--long before working out was “in”, I was a closet exercise nut. At a petite 5'2", eyes of blue--I was a mini-Dolly Parton (OK, not the same cup size, but not bad either). My cousin thought I created “good PR” for him, as fellows envied him his “date”, and potential girlfriends wondered what they’d been missing with this guy (at least that was how he saw having me tagging along).
The day was a blast. I met SO many good-looking fellows, all friends of my cousin, and all college sophomores--a high school girl’s dream. “Older” men, and I got to chat with them, flirt discreetly, and often was the only female in a pod of males. Well, if I hadn’t decided I was going to the other university, this had to be a great selling point right there.
However, the icing on the cake was a call from my cousin a couple of days later asking if I’d be OK with one of his classmates calling me. Evidently I’d made quite an impression on one of his buddies, and he wanted to call me and ask me out on a date. A college man wanting to date me. OK, I was officially psyched! But for the life of me, as my cousin described the fellow, I couldn’t think who he was, or what I’d thought of him when I met him. Ah well, details, I’d find out after he called.
That evening the call came in. Dad had answered the phone. I had an extention phone in my room, which back in those days was pretty rare (yes, I’m dating myself). So at least once my dad hung up I had relative privacy.
His name was Tony. I was already in love. He started right off trying to help me figure out which he had been, of the many fellows I’d met that day at school. Finally he admitted he hadn’t talked with me, but had seen me with my cousin, and thought I was his girlfriend so didn’t intrude. He had ethics, hum.
He began telling me where he lived (which turned out not to be very far from my home). He said I couldn’t miss his family’s home, as it was the only “barn” on Fourth Street. That street was filled with some very beautiful old Victorian homes, so I was thinking, “wow, NICE neighborhood”. I assumed the joke was calling it a barn because of its size--but later I was to find out it was, indeed, the shape of the house, like an old red barn found everywhere in Iowa’s farming landscape.
He then told me about his family. His sense of humor was fantastic. I’m a sucker for a guy with a good sense of humor. And this fellow liked to play with words, doing quite a “standup” routine via the phone. I was more than hooked. He had me chuckling and occasionally laughing out loud. I figured by then looks would be small potatoes, as he had me where my heart is. Laughing.
When he asked me out, I was a bit surprised. He had to attend a relative’s wedding that weekend, and he wondered if I’d like to be his date. He thought it would be a great way to spend time with me, and introduce me to his family. My goodness, meet his family already--we had barely met. But he was so sincere, so dear the way he asked, how could I refuse?
So I dressed in my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, nice pumps, new purse, hair all done up, and there I sat, waiting for him to arrive. I had older parents, so there was no need (and probably no use) giving the “Please don’t say anything stupid or embarrassing” speech. My folks were SO proper, they would be polite to someone who picked his nose, although he would never be invited back.
A pristine baby blue 55 Chevy pulled into the drive. OK, in 1967 you couldn’t do better than that unless you had a Vet! And as I tried NOT to be seen staring out the window, I was intense, trying to see what this fellow with the great sense of humor looked like. The car door opened, he stepped out of the car, closed the door, and there he was. He was Handsome--I mean, Hollywood handsome--not Marlboro man handsome--more a shorter version Cary Grant handsome. Extremely BUFF! As in I work out with weights, Buff.
He came to the door, which I already had wide open. He took one look at me, and before either of us said a word, he broke out in the biggest smile, then rather shyly looked down as if to regroup--but then looked right back up, deep into my eyes, reached out to take my hand in his, and said a sweet and simple, “Hi.”
I was smitten, and amazingly he seemed to be smitten with me--Wow!