I really wish that I could say that I was a smooth make-out queen, but I was such a klutz. It was dark. We were in the park. In the back seat of his ’66 Mustang. My hair was very long. The windows were all fogged. There was a rap on the window, a flashlight glaring and a big COP. He told us to sit up, return to the front seat and leave the area. Leave we did, with me still lying down in the back seat because my flowing tresses were wrapped around a window handle!
And of course there were all the infamous places to park. In Northeast Philly, that meant Krewstown (does Stan still love Rosalie Winkler?!) and Shady Lane. For my guy and me, it also meant finding any one of several new housing developments in our area. We’d drive into the up-and-coming complex, head for a dead end street, and watch the car windows fog up. Only problem is– it undid my Curl Free!
Caught In The Act My sister would call her boyfriend to come over every time my parents went out for the day. One day, my parents decided to come back a little earlier than expected. As soon my sister and her “beau” heard the key in the lock, the boyfriend jumped into the closet. My father came into her room, and immediately demanded that the boyfriend come out from hiding. slowly, the closet door opened, and out stepped the boyfriend. “Next time” said my father, “make sure you take your shoes with you.” My sister and brother-in-law(the boyfriend)still laugh about that today.
Well there were a few good places to fool around. The favorite during school hours was in one of the back rooms behind the stage at our school. Actually below the stage at school. It is particularly funny for me, because in my children’s school they have a room just like this under the stage, and because there are bathrooms and sinks in this room some of the mothers wanted to set these rooms up for the children’s use. Then it was pointed out that it would be a fire hazzard because there are no windows and the only way out is up one narrow staircase and through the auditorium. When not on school time basements were always a handy hiding place.
My boyfriend and I couldn’t go to each other’s houses to “fool around”. We used to fool around in the stairwell of my building. It doesn’t sound very romantic….but when I was 16, it was the best place to be! There was a separate entrance from the front of my building, with it’s own tiny foyer area, and then the door to the stairwell. It seemed like our own private little getaway!
My first kiss took place while hanging out in a parking lot with friends. We must have been in 7th grade, and I had a crush on the boy (since he had kissed me on the cheek in kindergarten). We were playing “truth or dare”…and that’s how it happened! (Nothing else ever happened between us after “the kiss”.)
My first kiss as I would define it today was over a checker game, a bottle of Chateau La Salle (the fanciest cheap wine you could by for $2.50) and Neil Young singing his After the Gold Rush album in the background. The house was warm and cozy, it was quiet, we had our Jack in the Box Tacos ready for nibbling, and the kiss just came. It was the perfect kiss, the perfect moment and the perfect memory.
I remember as a youngster in grade shcool, we would go to someones party and they would play Spin the Bottle. Everyone sat in a circle, then one person would spin the bottle and whoever it turned to would get a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Some times it was a little embarresing, as there were both boys and girls there, and I was very shy wnd turned red as a beet when the bottle turned to me. I sat holding my breath, hoping it would point to someone else. Ah, what memories!