Love Diaries

Bob Love Diaries
The Romantic Confessions of a Virgin Prude

Part 6
Junior Prom

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Part 1,
The First Action
Part 2, Paradise Missed
Part 3, Poetic Justice
Part 4, Thumbs Up 7Up!
Part 5,
I <3 NY
Part 6, Junior Prom
Part 7,
The Most Important Girl
Part 8, Julie
Part 9, Yesterday Sucked
Part 10, Between Friends
Part 11, Questions Answered
Part 12,
Art School Confidential
Part 13, Virginity Lost

Getting a new haircut in the summer of '87 didn't change my love life much, but it gave it a tiny pinch. I went from adolescent part down the middle and bangs too short, to a "daring" spiky flattop. I bought into the New Wave look and knew I was not yet the shit... but somehow closer.

There was a girl that I'd been friends in school and we shared many of the same issues (awkward behavior and naughty sarcasm). We had gone to the Junior Prom together under the "just friends" agreement much like Ducky and Molly. We stuck it out and prom came and went, no bumps.


We're the couple in the middle. Talk about chemistry!

I was a...it's a...prom was an important....Oh nevermind.

I don't remember the reason we went out days after the Prom, but we found ourselves in my beat up, powder blue, 4 door Ford Maverick heading west into the mountains of Colorado. I think we each had the suspicion that something was trying to happen.

Now remember, I haven't gotten any cooler at this point. The new haircut and style didn't miraculously make me charming and sexy. I was still a little boy pretending. For instance as we drove into the hills I knew that nothing was going to transpire if the wheels were spinning so I used the following line:
"I don't wanna use up all the gas."
So she suggested we pull over. After we pulled over I expressed my concern with leaving the car radio on.
"Now I'm afraid to use up the battery." I explained.

So we sat there in the silence soaking up the awkward mountain air together. I'm sure it crossed my mind to switch the radio back on but I didn't want to look like I was wishy washy.

Nothing was happening. We were each totally self-conscious teens fumbling over conversation and destroying any chemistry we once had. So what magic line did I come up with to move things along you ask? Well here it is:
"I'm so horny right now."
Yes, that's right ladies. Impressed? And I'm not even sure that I was actually horny. Well, either way it must have been enough because she agreed.

I remember questioning where this was all going to take place. The steering wheel was surely going to get in the way. I remember her suggesting the back seat. I also remember expressing concern about each of us climbing over the back seat together or separately. She reminded me that there were doors on the car and that we could exit the car and enter into the back seat through the rear doors. I was at the top of my game.

I was able to inspire even more awkwardness when we got back there and we're staring at each other,
"Well, shouldn't you take off your clothes or something?"
"Let's kiss first." She suggested.
"Oh yeah! Duh." The lines I was sayin' were smooth and teasing. Yum.

It wasn't long before I was on top of her, kissing her... and realizing that I wasn't going to be able to perform. I was scared, babbling, distracted and a flaming virgin. Then she sat up and unbuttoned her shirt.

Now in the movies this moment is what everyone waits for. Here in real life however I was not excited, attracted or enjoying myself in the least. And I was getting myself in deeper and deeper.

She laid down and I resumed my position on top of her. I remember repeating one line through my head over and over again.
"I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this."


Me pretending to know.

My kissing turned mechanical, I stopped and put my head into her shoulder. I was trying to think of what I could possibly say to get out of this. All I could come up with was, "I'm not going to be able to go through with this."

She sat up, scrambled for her shirt and cried. I apologized again and again, but nothing can fix a situation like this. We got back into the front seat and I drove her home while she cried and cried. She told me that she really didn't like me anyhow and that she was mostly doing this to get back at her ex.

I wasn't traumatized, hurt or upset by the evening's events. I went home and slept fine and never really talked to her again.

I was 18 years old. Christ. I'm sure that her side of the story is much less flattering for me.

 

 

 

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All opinions, writings, illustrations & designs are that of Normal Bob Smith (C) 2000 - 2009
NORMAL BOB SMITH DESIGN NEW YORK

 

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