The Last Girlfriend (Part 1)

I thought I’d take a break from regular programming to give you a blast from the past. I don’t think I ever really delved into the story of my one and only long-term relationship (so far).  It was in high school and lasted nearly a year and a half.

Patti was my first real girlfriend.  I’d dated a girl before her, but she turned out to be a nutcase so that enterprise only lasted seven weeks (click here to read that story).  That experience nearly put me off girls altogether – so much so that Patti spent months trying and failing to get my attention.  I was hopelessly oblivious, and it didn’t help that I was very conservative at the time and turned off by her liberal views.

Eventually we had occasion to talk about other things and found that we were very much alike.  We even kept a notebook that we passed back and forth to document all the ways in which we were frighteningly similar.  After a couple months of friendship, I took the plunge and asked her to the homecoming dance.  She said yes and we were a pair of grinning idiots from that point on.   Everything went perfectly.  We danced.  We slow danced.  I walked her home.  She took my hand in hers.  I wanted to kiss her under the streetlight in front of her house, but chickened out.

We went to our school’s pancake breakfast the next morning, followed by the big game after that.  We had such a good time.  This time I took her hand on the way home, but I was still too scared to go in for the kiss.  Finally she got tired of waiting for me to make a move and went for it herself.  I was so shocked I forgot to close my eyes.  It was awkward but all kinds of wonderful, and just enough to break the ice.  It gave me the courage to go for the second kiss a half-hour later.

I floated home after that. Things went swimmingly over the next few weeks.  I walked her home each day after school, sat and talked for a bit, and kissed before parting ways.  With Mom’s help, I took her out for dinner and a movie.  Then I cooked up the greatest date yet.  And there we were on a cold November night, hand in hand on a blanket next to the old war memorial.  We gazed upon the heavens and the best meteor shower we’d ever seen in our lives.  Fireball after fireball erupted into sight as we oohed and ahhed.  We were at the  highest point of the island and had a fantastic view for miles around.

This time I got Dad to chaperone.  He was a couple hundred feet away, sitting in his car with the engine running.   He spent the next two hours listening to the radio to stave off boredom while Patti and I had the time of our lives.  I would have preferred being alone with her, but we were teenagers and had to deal with hovering parents.  Dad was parked facing us to make sure there was no hanky-panky.  I was too self-conscious to put my arms around her with him watching.

We finally called it a night (morning) as the shooting stars faded into the approaching sunrise.  Dad had dozed off by that point so we knocked on the window to wake him up.  The three of us went to the diner for breakfast.  Then he drove us back to her house.  He was gracious enough to head down the block a little ways to turn the car around, giving me a little time and a modicum of privacy to kiss her goodbye.  I wrapped my arms around her waist as she smiled at me.

“You know, I’m going to marry you someday,” she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into my ear.  I grinned in reply and gave her another kiss before Dad reappeared at the curb.

We drove in silence for a couple of minutes before he started the inquisition:  “So, uh, what religion is Patti?  Is she Catholic?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, what is she then?”

“She isn’t anything.  She doesn’t have religion,” I answered.  We drove in silence for another minute while Dad chewed his cud.

“You know, if you two ever get married then you have to raise the kids as Catholic,” he said.  I gaped at him.  It was almost as if he knew what she had said to me.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied.  Dad brightened up.

“Good!  I’m glad to see you’re thinking about these things.”

No, I’m NOT thinking about these things.  I’m fucking seventeen, Dad.  I only said “I know” simply to show that I knew what the Church taught.  I didn’t mean to infer that that’s what I intended to do.  And why the hell was he even bringing it up?

“Because when your sister got married, I had a talk with her and her husband,” Dad continued, pronouncing the last word with venom.  “And they agreed to raise their daughter as Catholic.  And now your sister is divorced, so I guess being Catholic and obeying the commandments doesn’t matter to some people,” he ranted.  Oh boy.  I had to listen to a treatise on the faith during the rest of the ride home.  Not only did his marriage fail and his family walk out, but now his daughter’s marriage failed as well.  Dad took that as yet another personal failing and a further step down the road to his eternal damnation.

Unfortunately for Dad, there was another commandment I was interested in violating.  It happened whenever I looked at Patti.  I was incredibly lucky to have her.  There were a lot of guys trying to get with her, but for some reason she wanted me and she didn’t give up until she got me.  We were the talk of the school when we started going out.  Guys and girls alike came up to me asking, “Is it true?  Are you and Patti really going out?”  They were agog when I answered in the affirmative.  Patti proudly wore my jacket around school, silencing any remaining doubters.

A few weeks after the meteor shower she invited me to the Christmas party at her karate school.  There was good music, good food, and of course good company.  Shortly after we arrived they turned the studio lights off and the black lights on.  Patti and I settled into a darkened corner.  I sat behind her and wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me.  I brushed her hair aside and gently breathed on her neck while I ran my fingers along her stomach.  The effect was immediate.  She tilted back to give me greater access and I gave her a neck a few experimental nibbles.  Her breathing grew heavier and I could feel her pulse pounding in her wrist as she placed one of her hands over mine.

After the party we took advantage of the backseat of her mom’s car to continue our foreplay.  We sat side by side and I grabbed her hand and pulled it towards me so I could lightly trace my fingertips up and down her forearm.  She did the same to me and by the time we arrived at her house we were all breathless and flustered.  Her mom parked in the driveway and went into the house first, leaving the two of us outside to say good night.  Privacy – thank you!

“You have no idea how much I want to jump you right now,” she grinned up at me.

“That’s good,” I said.  Then I pushed her up against the garage door – out of view of the front windows of her house – and French kissed her.  She eagerly returned the favor and we made out for several minutes.  I ran my hand down her back and grabbed a handful of her nice round ass before we broke apart.  She gave me a mischievous smile before she reached behind me and squeezed my ass in return.  After two months that was the most physical we’d been yet.  Then she gave me one last peck before turning around and darting up the walkway and into the house, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so.

I walked home.  No Dad around to spoil the mood this time.

I wanted her.  And I was going to get her.

 

(to be continued)

12 thoughts on “The Last Girlfriend (Part 1)

  1. No one has commented on this really? You got further along in high school than I had. You got some good experiences and knew what you wanted from the girls at least. You ran into crazy and sent her packing. Was the previous girl you had the one whom you found out started living as a man?

  2. This was a fun read. I was amazed at the chaperoning of your parents – at 17! I never spent more than the bare essentials in the company of my parents from 14 onwards, and my entire adolescence was without parents hovering or watching. And what your dad said about religion! Phew, you had some difficult things to combat even then. Can’t want for the second installment…

    • That little snippet of Dad is nothing. You should have read the second blog I had detailing his antics. Imagine your dad is Donald Trump and also a hardcore Catholic. That’s what it was like growing up.

      And we didn’t have a choice if we wanted to go on an actual date somewhere – our parents had to drive us since we had no transportation.

          • Hmm…some bit of Eastern philosophy you’re posing there, Lad? Who does one have if not oneself? Who has one if oneself does not?

            Now, if your enquiry is whether I have my own blog, the answer remains, “I do not.” (Still holding out to co-curate one with Lon Spector.) 😏

            • Ha I’d forgotten about that dude. I miss him… and San, who used to leave me angry comments calling me a dick and a dweeb. As for yourself, I’m very curious about who I’d be meeting. At least I have a blog, but you are a total enigma. Am I correct in assuming you’re a dude? And you live in NYC? That’s about all I have so far.

            • Do excuse the delayed reply, Lad, got deeply into Passover cooking. Oh, and a happy Easter Season to you.

              Oho, San—there’s one about whom I had forgotten. Whoo-doggie, he was a real peach.

              As to myself? Well, let’see…correct, I live in Manhattan (same apartment for 26-and-a-half years–quite the Gotham aberration) and am a man (not much of a man, but a man); Jew; 6′ 2″; alumnus of a reasonably respected, mid-sized, mid-western university; glutton; dyspeptic crank; fairly well-read; rather broad-ranged musical tastes; great admirer of good writing…what else?

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