Makenna is getting close to that age. Moms of girls you know the one – the dating age! She is always asking me questions about dating and boys and oh, is it fun.
Last week, she wanted to hear about the worst date I ever had.
At 16, there were several older boys in my high school that I would have loved to date. I was sure that I was out of their league though.
I wasn’t in the popular crowd – marching band drum major, choir member, and active in the drama club. Need I say more.
They really had no idea I existed.
So imagine my surprise when one of them actually asked me out. I thought he was joking. He was a senior. And cute. And he had a car.
We planned the typical Friday night – ’16 Candles’ was playing at the closest theater in Richmond. He woul pick me up at my house and me home before curfew.
I was petrified. What would we talk about on the long 20 minute drive to the theater? What should I wear? Should I ask for popcorn? Will he want to hold my hand?
I don’t remember what I wore. I do remember him getting to the house 15 minutes late and then sitting at the end of the drive honking his horn. I was not allowed to even open the door until he got out of the car and knocked. It was a good start.
Needless to say, my parents were not impressed. He quickly apologized and promised to have me home on time.
Once we got in the car, he cranked up the radio, rolled down the windows and said nothing for the entire drive. Well, that solved that whole talking thing and wrecked my perfectly coifed 80’s mall hair.
At the theater, he told me that ‘popcorn with all that butter makes you fat’ and bought a drink for us to share.
Throughout the movie, he not only held my hand, he put his arm around me, pulled me close to him like Molly Ringwald was some kind of terrifying monster. Even worse, he kept trying to kiss me in this really sloppy way.
Finally frustrated with my lack of cooperation, he stormed out of the theater before the movie was over leaving me with no choice but to follow.
Another quiet drive home, and he dropped me at the end of the driveway with a ‘See you Monday!’
It was a pretty horrible night. I remember crying myself to sleep wondering what I did wrong.
What amazed me? He wasn’t kidding. He showed up at my locker on Monday morning, asking about the rest of my weekend and wondering if we should go to a party together the next weekend.
This post was inspired by The Daily Post.
Third Rate Romance
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