Dating Back in the Day

 

My husband and I were sitting on the deck the other day, enjoying a beautiful afternoon and sipping a little Vodka and tonic refresher. Not sure how we got onto the subject, but after fifty years of marriage it’s a miracle to find something new to talk about. But we did. The topic turned to dating in high school.

High school dating is not easy, at least it wasn’t for me. I was shy and in those days a girl had to wait by the phone to be asked out, so there was a bit of waiting. However, I managed to go out often enough and some evenings were actually pretty enjoyable. I got to see Charade with a nice guy at the beautiful Lowe’s Palace Theater in Washington, D.C. And enjoyed fireworks on the Fourth of July on the Mall with my junior year boyfriend. There were picnics and basketball games and dances and a lot of movies. But there are a few that stand out for other reasons - names shall not be mentioned to protect the innocent!

Me in high school

When I was just a freshman, I was asked to several dances. One was Gonzaga High School’s Purple and White. If I remember correctly, this was a blind date, so expectations weren't high. However, my mother had made me a beautiful red velvet dress and it should have gone well. But the boy who took me was shier than I was. We did not say one word the entire night. This is not an exaggeration. He didn’t even ask me to dance. We just stood there likes lumps on a log until the ordeal was over.

And then there was my senior prom. The evening was fine - a wonderful dinner at a dear friend’s home and the dance and parties afterward. But it could have gone all wrong if my sister-in-law, Lynda, hadn’t saved the day. My BFF and I went to a very upscale salon in Bethesda to have our hair done. I had short hair at the time and had seen a picture in a magazine that I loved. A few large curls gently cascading from the crown of my head. Well, Ann, my hairdresser, felt that a lot of rather tight curls piled on top was just what I wanted. It looked like a plate of hairy egg rolls. As I was getting up the nerve to say, “Can’t you fix this?” when the owner of the salon looked at my hair and said, “Ann! Perfect!” I was stuck. 

I was doubtful, but, well, it was ‘perfect’ apparently, so how bad could it be? And then I got home. I walked in the door and my mother said, “Oh, they left the rollers in,” at which point I burst into tears and said I couldn’t go. Lynda sat me down and proceeded to undo the curls and arranged them to gently cascade from the crown of my head – just like the picture in the magazine and the evening was saved!

But the date that really takes the cake was the St. John’s High School Regimental Ball. The Ball was a big deal. It was my first very formal dance. I was asked by a senior. My mother made me a beautiful blue satin dress. I was excited. And then my date called to say he had asked someone else whom he’d rather take, so sorry, but it’s off. You really have to wonder if his mother was aware of his shenanigans. 

I had just gotten used to the idea of not going when a friend of my brother’s called and asked me to the dance. Well, I had the dress, so sure. But when he picked me up, I found out that we were doubling with the first Bozo who had asked and unasked me. His date found this out and was furious with him. I didn’t much care. I was just happy to be dressing up and be going to the dance and seeing The Shirelles sing Soldier Boy. And kind of looking forward to sitting down at a nice restaurant afterward, like my friends were. More fool me! The big spenders capped off the night by taking us to the Little Tavern, a hamburger joint where they sold a bag of ten burgers for a dollar. We ate in the car. I still laugh thinking of my parents’ faces when I told them of my big night. Thank God I’ll never have to date again.

 

COVID inertia may be over

 Well, here I am, actually putting words into the computer once again. I seem to be coming out of some sort of COVID inertia which caused me to, more or less, stop in my tracks for the last year and a half. I see light at the end of a very long tunnel. I just hope it lasts. 

This summer helped a lot to bring me out of the doldrums in good ways and really annoying ways. Cicadas! I am not a fan of cicadas. I do not find them interesting or captivating. The incessant noise almost drove me to distraction which, if nothing else, did cause my blood to start flowing freely to my brain thinking up new and nefarious schemes to kill each and every one before I careened right around the bend. I didn’t kill any. And they finally shut up! 

Tom and I celebrated fifty years of marital bliss. Our children, Rachel Anne and Matthew gave us a lovely party. Lots to eat, the very best company, a beautiful cake and an ice luge to make sure we didn’t go to bed sober. 

Then, of course, we had our glorious month of vaccinated, mask-free shopping, dining, and visiting. Tom and I were able to get out on the bay quite a few times. And, best of all, we had a family vacation! Four houses filled with family and friends. Three of my sisters were able to join in. Happy hours every night with delicious cocktails and tasty treats on the beach, music and dancing and a lot of laughter and love. It was life-affirming. 

However, the start of our little jaunt to the Outer Banks could have gone better. It was raining as we set out, not horribly, but you like a vacation start to be sunny and carefree. We were rolling along nicely until we stopped about half-way for a rest room break. Coming out of McDonald’s I noticed that our moonroof was up. We had not put the moonroof up. In an effort to put it down, Tom and I managed to open it about a good three inches. We couldn’t get it closed. 

So, fingers crossed, we got back on the road hoping that the rain, which hadn’t been much more than drizzle, wouldn’t get any worse. We were on a stretch of highway with nowhere to pull over when, of course, Mother Nature decided that what Tom and I really needed to get our vacation rolling was a good downpour. If you haven’t had the experience, I’ll just let you know that driving with rain pouring onto your glasses is not ideal. It makes for an unhappy drive. We ended up cruising along with me holding a small towel over Tom’s head and getting pretty well soaked. Finally, the sun came out and we dried off and arrived in a surprisingly good mood. The moonroof continued to amuse us all week, opening and closing at will adding a hint of mystery to a wonderful vacation. 

And now a word from my sponsor. My Cocktails to Die For is, at this very moment, available at Amazon for any who might like to try some rather tasty concoctions favored by the Forrest sisters and get a brief introduction to my Daisy&Rose Mystery Series. And, of course, the Daisy&Rose Mysteries are also available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and wherever fine books are sold.