1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures

Home » 15 - The Wrong Ones (1966) » Prince Un-Charming » Prince Un-Charming

Prince Un-Charming

I now looked like a little Dutch boy instead of Peter Pan.

I now looked like a little Dutch boy instead of Peter Pan.

My butchered pixie-hair was growing out. Instead of Peter Pan, I now resembled a little Dutch boy. And no gross humped-out boil in sight. With my slight improvements, I set off to find a new Prince Charming.

My cousin Deedee and I walked to the Jaycee Center, a couple of blocks from Bochi’s. I wore white jeans sewn up the sides to make them tight, calf-high black vinyl boots, one of Daddy-O’s white shirts, and a maroon CPO jacket.

The barn cats liked my cool look.

The barn cats liked my cool look.

No live band tonight. Two young radio DJs (minor local celebrities) supplied music on a sound system. They weren’t very cute, but were sort of famous, and I heard they had no qualms about kissing.

I maneuvered Deedee on the dance floor so the DJs could see us. We danced up a storm to no avail. The DJs focused on more voluptuous girls.

We bought sodas and sat down. Two boys plunked themselves on each side of us. The DJs became history.

We introduced ourselves and I recognized the name of the boy beside me; Brian.

“I know you,” I said. “We went to Dix Avenue grade school together.”

“Really? I don’t remember you.”

Well, that was flattering. I even remembered which house was his on our bus route. He was kind of cute with bushy sandy hair, so I chose to forgive his lapse of memory and tact.

The boys walked us back to Bochi’s when the center closed. Bochi was asleep, and for the first and only time, we (I) invited the boys inside her home at night. Deedee and her guy sat in the TV room. Brian and I went to the front room.

We sat on the sofa and spoke quietly for two minutes. Just like I always dreamed, he grabbed my shoulders, pulled me close, and planted a big wet one on my trembling lips. But it was only our first date; except not even a real date. And it didn’t feel remotely romantic.

After two seconds of lip pressing he pushed me backward. As our bodies went horizontal he stuck his tongue down my throat. It felt as fat as a Polish sausage, but not tasty at all, and it was never part of my dream.

I pushed up to dislodge him. He held on tight with his tongue connecting us like a human Tinker Toy.

We rolled off the sofa and a muffled scream filled the air.

Oopsy. The crash made my teeth snap shut. I was more embarrassed than sorry.

Deedee ran in to the front-room. “Meem, are you okay? What happened?”

Bochi appeared in her bathrobe.

“The boys are just leaving,” I explained.

Bochi didn’t say a word. She stood looking disappointed, shaking her head as the boys beat a hasty retreat. I felt despicable.

“I’m really sorry, Bochi. It was my idea to invite the boys inside.”

I know she stayed awake saying her rosary for me.

I never heard from Brian again, but I suspect he thought twice before sticking his tongue where it didn’t belong.

Lesson learned: A prince is often disguised as a frog, but the Brian-frog was disguised as a prince and almost fooled me.

Now it’s your turn: Tell me about your first teenage kiss.

Related posts: Chapter Fourteen: Kiss Me, You Fool; Death Bells Ring

© Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures, 2012 forward. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


  1. mikesteeden says:

    The trials and tribulations of growing up – I wish I was as brave as you and could write of my own – and many there were – disasters in matters of the quest for young love. A jolly good read as ever!

  2. chsuresh63 says:

    Hahaha! Real life is all too often like that – frogs dressed as princes 🙂

  3. Anonymous says:

    Here I must have been the frog 😕

  4. Here I must have been the frog

  5. Ralph says:

    Hi Mary 😀
    I expect you stuck with your Polish sausages after that encounter 😀
    I can’t remember my first kiss. Probably a Dover sole 😉 ❤

  6. Elle Knowles says:

    Oh goodness! Mine must have been bad because its burried to deep for me to remember! As so should yours! Lol! ~Elle

  7. Doyle Duke says:

    Intrigued from the first paragraph. Great stuff.
    My first kiss? Don’t remember, but I do remember one desperate [she had to be desperate] young girl [much more knowledgeable], who tried to teach me the tongue thing. I left the encounter thinking she certainly didn’t know how to kiss—like kissing the opening of a milk bottle.

  8. Kay Pray says:

    I was fifteen the summer Billy and his Dad came to visit. Our Fathers had known each other since before we were born. Our family lived next door to us in Lansing, MI.

    Billy had joined the army and this visit was the last free time he’d have before leaving for boot camp. In those days the army could be an alternative to spending time in Juvenile Hall, I am not certain beyond any doubt, but I got the impression this was his case.

    Over the years after we moved to the farm, they would visit. Billy was the boy that hung out with my older brother and plagued me when I tried to tag along. He’d changed; so had I, my little tomboy remembrances faded as I saw him with my fifteen year old hormones, as did his seventeen year old ones, when he saw me.

    On this sunny summer day the clouds fluffed across the sky, I couldn’t wait to get outside to enjoy it and impress our handsome guest. After getting the lunch dishes done, I went to my room and put on my new shorts and a blouse. I’d earned the money to buy them by babysitting, I was so proud of myself.

    My fourteen year old sister Judy, Billy and I were running around throwing water balloons at each other and when I ran behind the garage to hide, we collided. I, with my back to the siding shrank into myself as Billy, supported himself against the garage wall, hands on either side of me, leaned down and placed his lips on mine. I was afraid, I tingled all over and shrunk farther down the wall.

    The dreamy kiss was shockingly interrupted as my shorts, underpants and buttock snagged a nail sticking out of the siding. I wiggled away, holding my hand on the injured area and ran into the house, mortified…… so much for romance.

  9. Kay Pray says:

    I was intrigued by your story, I am new here and want to write about my life as I see you have here.

  10. Glynis Jolly says:

    There must be at least one of these idiots in every class at high school. I came across two of them. At least your aunt was smart enough to let you handle the situation despite being woken up.

  11. Courtney says:

    I really lucked out. My first kiss was with my first boyfriend. I was 16 (and a half) and he was very reserved. He was older than I was – I was the new pastor’s oldest daughter, a junior in high school and he was a sophomore in college. He was very sweet. We had been dating for about 6 weeks when he finally kissed me -in the car, toward the end of a date. It was pretty perfect. Of course, I was so embarrassed, I don’t think I told anyone – maybe my best friend…maybe.

    What’s funny is that four and a half years earlier, I met him at a church camp and he flirted with me the whole week. One day, he grabbed my icee and took a drink (without my permission!) and said, “It’s like our first kiss.” I had no idea four years later our paths would cross again and he’d be my actual first kiss!

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Courtney, I’m glad you had a great first kiss! My husband is six years younger than me. He likes to say that if I’d kissed him when I was a senior and he was in sixth grade I wouldn’t have looked at anyone else. I tell him that he would have needed to stand on a box to reach me!

  12. kriskkaria says:

    Oh boy! Fun story. Can I narrate for my podcast?

  13. […] posts: Chapter Fifteen: Prince Un-Charming; Chapter Fourteen: Kiss Me, You Fool; Death Bells […]

  14. This is hilarious!
    My first kiss wasn’t romantic at all. I didn’t even like the guy; I just couldn’t figure out how to say ‘no’ without hurting his feelings. And the kiss itself was disappointing too; it was like my face was being mopped up with a dishrag. In retrospect it all seems so silly.

    Have a great week! Thanks for sharing this! 🙂

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Information was limited back then, I didn’t even know people did that! I bet Prince Charming didn’t kiss Cinderella that way.
      Thanks for stopping by and sharing.

  15. OMG! My first boyfriend went to the same kissing school as Brian. Hated every minute of it. Thought I was destined to become a nun (except for a slightly warm groin area!).

  16. My first teenage kiss.
    My first thought on trying to remember my first teenage kiss was, I can’t remember but gradually a recollection from the dim and distant past came back to me.
    Back in the 60’s it was not common practice to have any form of sexual contact with the opposite sex in your parents house, it was however quite common for young people to go to the pictures, (the movies for any American readers) for such experiences.
    One would head for the back row and when the lights went down, one could commence canoodling whilst most of the people were watching the film, obviously the back row would contain a number of other couples who were there for the same reason.
    I seem to remember there was a sort of check list which had been passed down from the more experienced boys starting with kissing, then perhaps kissing with tongues and so on.
    One would move on down the list with an arm over the shoulder which would then fall onto the girls breast and if it were not removed one progressed to the next step, that of fondling the breast from the outside of her blouse.
    Slowly, slowly catchy monkey, the next step that of fondling the breast inside her blouse which of course after much fumbling and hopefully some assistance from the girl eventually meant the brassiere was released and access to the naked breasts was achieved. At this point I think there were many teenagers who must have started to believe that there actually was a God!
    Fumbling slowly onward at this point I personally attempted the impossible and slowly slid my hand up the girls skirt where to my utter surprise was met by a pair of stockings which was unusual as by now virtually all girls had gone over to wearing the more modern tights.
    I feel my story is coming across as a little impersonal as I keep referring to “the girl,” but the girl had a name which I cannot remember but I’m fairly certain was Jane, so will continue and refer to her as Jane.
    As was the way in those days girls and boys were more tightly controlled than is the case today and I found out later that Jane wore the more old fashioned stockings as her mother thought it was more hygienic for her to get some air around her front bottom.
    There was an old saying concerning girls and stocking tops which were referred to as giggle tops, the reason being if you got past the stocking tops you were laughing, suffice to say my courage ran out at the stocking tops.
    I saw Jane on two or three other dates but our relationship was destined never to last, as I said her mother was very protective and to arrange a date required virtually filling in a number of forms in triplicate for her mother to give permission for the liaison.
    It’s a shame as she was a very nice girl and we never progressed as far as having sex, for in those days that sort of thing had to wait until one had a motorcar and one could wait until it was dark and park up in the woods!

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Your make-out steps sound about the same as I experienced here in the mid to late 60s. By the late 60s we had panty hose instead of the horrid garter belts that were not comfortable while sitting and slowly pulled downwards while walking.
      Never let your daughters go out with boys who drive.

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