1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures

Home » Posts tagged 'bad haircuts'

Tag Archives: bad haircuts

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.

%d bloggers like this: