After 14 years of chastity, I was soon to have my first date. I had confessed to my good friend Susan that I was in love with her good friend, Lynnette. Susan confessed that she loved my good friend Terry. By an odd coincidence, Susan and Terry and Lynnette and I went on a double date that Friday night.
We decided to see Encounter With the Unknown, which sounded scary enough to prompt the girls to run to the boys for protection. I hoped so.
An uneventful week passed prior to the movie. My civics teacher told me that she disliked me, and Terry caught a cold.
By Friday, I had amassed five dollars and found a matching pair of socks.
Friday passed slowly. The pep assembly lasted for decades. As I played my sax, I envisioned my neckstrap as Lynnette’s soft arms around my neck, pulling me closer.
After school, I hurried home to perform the rituals to the goddess of Love. The first unnecessary thing I did was shave. At that time, hair had never been seen between my neck and nose. Next, I showered lightly in my father’s cologne. Dressing quickly, I walked confidently out the door.
“Be careful!” my mother shouted after me.
“I won’t,” I thought, grinning like I knew something.
At the movie, I proudly purchased two tickets, two popcorns, and two huge drinks.
We sat in the back row. When the lights went out, it did something I wasn’t prepared for. It got dark. I was afraid of darkness with a passionate woman beside me. Before I had time to defend myself, the movie illuminated the room, and I saw that Lynnette was talking to Susan.
The movie droned on as I sat, cross-armed, staring at the chair in front of me. I knew that I wanted to hold Lynnette’s hand. I also knew that I would in just a minute.
After an hour of worrying, I reached over to hold her hand. On the screen, an ambulance careened madly down a street, lights flashing wildly. As I touched her hand, she gave my arm an upward push. Magically, my arm went around her neck.
I sat in the semi-darkness, my right arm around a girl’s neck, staring at the wall to my left. Her head was on my shoulder. I could feel it.
Something was missing. I knew it was. So I slowly turned my head to see if Lynnette thought so, too. She slowly turned her eyes up toward mine. I couldn’t look away. I was caught, whirling madly down blind alleys like the ambulance.
I realized what I had to do. It was no longer of my free will. It was a command, an order, an inevitability that I kiss Lynnette. But what if I missed? I didn’t want to kiss her nose or chin.
Then she kissed me. Then I kissed her. It was a set pattern after that.
Later, after I had kicked over both cokes and vainly tried to get comfortable with a chair arm in my side, I noticed Terry. Terry was noticing us. A momentary feeling of pity touched me as I remembered Terry’s cold. But it didn’t slow me.
When we felt the movie ending, Lynnette and I disengaged and watched it. When it was over, we watched the people file past. In the empty theater, we stood up and laughed. We laughed about the coke, about the movie, and about our fears. We walked home.
Before I entered my house, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned my collar. I then firmly opened the door, strolled through the living room and my family, and walked to my room. I jumped on the bed, lacing my fingers behind my neck. I lay there a long time, staring contentedly at the ceiling above me.
Hell, lipstick on my collar or not, I knew that I was a man.
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