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.