Maybe it’s frontal lobe disinhibition, resulting from reaching an older age, or maybe I just want to record some memories before I lose them completely. Because these two entries (this and the next to be found in the next post) are offered “With reader discretion advised.”
Decades ago, I had a date with a young woman; it was a fix-up arranged by our mothers who thought we’d like each other. I called her—and let’s call her C here—and arranged for her to meet me at the theatre where I was stage managing a New Year’s presentation of Side by Side by Sondheim. The show served as the perfect example of why actors should not drink champagne before a performance. (Unless “Send in the Clowns” is sung as verse 1, verse 2, chorus, verse 1 again, chorus, verse 1 again, accompanied by both piano and confused and quizzical looks from the pianist.)
When the rehearsal was finished C and I drove to my one friend, E’s, house—I don’t know how or why this was arranged as our date, but there we were. Somehow, it turned out to be a double date when H, another friend of mine who had been madly in love with E for a long time, also appeared. At some point, H disappeared into the bedroom with E. Left alone at last, my date and I began making out while sitting, then lying on the couch.
One of my wandering hands found its way into her pants. Judging from the sounds emanating from her, she was enjoying my exploration. I mean enjoying it a great deal. Several times, in fact. However, my attempts to get her to reciprocate failed. She did however compliment me on my “magic fingers.”
After that, I did try for a second date with her, but she never responded favorably and so I gave up.
Meanwhile, the next day, I visited H at work. As it turns out the night before was the night she lost her virginity. Her comment on it was, “I didn’t feel a thing.” For some reason, I asked the question: “Do you mean emotionally?” She said, “No, physically.” She commented on his size, or lack thereof. Years later, E’s eventual ex-wife would say to my late wife, when he entered the room, “Oh, look, here comes my 2 inches!”
By the way, I included the fingering story in my play 2020: The Year of Perfect Vision. You can see a staged reading of it here.
MUSOFYR 