Of course I wasn’t suppose to go, but I did. I even got up the courage to ask my dream girl from grade school. I saw her around school every day. She was even better looking than she was at Webster. She was trying out to be a cheerleader. It took awhile to get up the courage to even ask her. She appeared to be moving in some circles with upper classmen. I just doubted that we had been in high school long enough for her to make a dating connection. When I sheepishly asked her to go with me she said, “I will if I don’t get a better offer. What! That really builds confidence. But being the idiot I was, I agreed. I don’t think I would have gone to the sock hop without a date.
Nothing better did come along, so she went with a guy from the bottom of the barrel. We walked. I reasoned it was only a mile. She clearly wasn’t happy I did not have access to a car. I didn’t know what the big deal was. We were in grade school four months ago and we walked everywhere or rode our bikes. I though walking was better than asking her to ride her bike. I don’t know what she expected. I was only 14. My family did not have a car. I guess we could have taken the bus. Maybe that would have been better. For me, this would was my first official date. I guess I didn’t even know the proper protocol.
The sock hop was in the school gum. When we arrived, she greeted a few people and then we danced our first dance together. While dancing she announced that she thought we ought to mingle with other people and then maybe dance the last dance together. Off she went. I never saw her again for over an hour.
I found Dean and Gene and a couple of other guys I knew and ended up hanging out with them along the sidelines. They all came without dates. The thought of doing that had never occurred to me. I never asked another person to dance. Didn’t know anyone else, and I didn’t want to be rejected.
I’m sure us guys were typical freshman. We laughed at people, made fun of the dancing and generally acted like idiots most of the night. There was a dance called “The Chicken” which some called a dirty dance. Of course, we were interested in a dirty dance. The couple sort of jitterbugged, clucked and weaved in and out at one another and thrust their pelvis together. The crowd gathered and oohed and awed and interjected catcalls. I doubt that dance would be anything unique today, probably not even considered sexy.
We didn’t bother anyone, but I’m sure we were somewhat annoying. Maybe that’s why no one remained near us. We sat on the sideline like the wallflowers we were just talking and laughing.
We were getting tired of hanging around but I had a girl to take home. The others decided to hang around a little longer before cutting out. Eventually she came back and we danced one more time. Then she very tenderly whispered in my ear, “I have a ride home with some older guys.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. What was going on? I was being dumped at the dance, not after I got her home. She wandered back to whatever crowd she had busted from and I walked dejectedly back to the boys.
We griped about girls and her in particular than decided we might as well go someplace else. There was a bowling alley a couple blocks away. We would go there. No one had any money but we would hang out for a while.
As we were getting near the exit, my date caught me by the arm and called me aside. “I decided it wasn’t right that I not go back with you. After all, I came with you.” “True, but you have ignored me all night. Why would I want to walk back with you?" “You brought me?” “What happened to the upper classman with the car (a wild guess on my part)?" He decided not to take me home after all. He was going to another party and didn’t want to take me.”“ "Too bad. Is your dad home?” “Yes.” Well, call him for a ride.” I turned on my heel and walked out with the boys. They thought my actions were terrific. I knew I did it because I was mad. I laughed and mocked her with the boys, but as I walked home alone I knew what I had done was mean. It didn’t matter what she did, I did not need to retaliate. But I was crushed. (my excuse).
She never spoke to me again and doubtfully ever looked my way. I was OK with that. I did feel like it would not have hurt as much if she had just slapped me across the face. Nothing took away the guilt I felt for my action.
She made out just fine at school. She moved in the popular crowd and as a senior was the head cheerleader. I was just a bump on her road to stardom.
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