First Date

        I’ll never forget my first date. It was May of 1960. I was taking Mary Jo Saunders to the spring dance at the high school.

         The first time I saw her she was sitting on a bench in front of the gas station eating an orange Popsicle. She was wearing short shorts which displayed beautiful honey-colored legs. Her blonde hair was done up in a kind of flip. Her baby blue eyes had a mischievous glint and her lips seemed to cry, “kiss me.” She was fifteen years old. I was sixteen and I was smitten.

         In those days you didn’t just ask a girl out. You had a friend of yours check with a friend of hers to see if she would accept if asked. That way everyone avoided embarrassment and rejection.

         Our little jerk water town had a population of 180 and had a gas station, a Red and White grocery store, and feed mill. Even the high school was in another town, so you pretty much had to wait until you had your driver’s license to go on a date unless you wanted to ask a girl to walk to the grocery store for an ice cream cone.

         Word came back that she would go to the dance with me and on that night I picked her up in my dad’s car at seven o’clock. I told her she looked beautiful and handed her a white corsage. She seemed surprised by the flowers.

I took her hand as we walked to into the school. “I’m not going to let go of you all night,” I whispered.

She stopped and looked me in the eye. “I thought you understood. I’m here to be with Tommy. He doesn’t have his driver’s license yet.”

My face caught fire.