One of the things I had been looking forward to prior to getting my driver’s license was the opportunity to be the one who drove on a date. All the advantages of being chauffeured on a date, other than by your parent, really never entered my mind until years later. Having control of the wheel, steering a date, a friend and a friend’s date to the appointed venue, and then exercising the same control over any other stops and the safe return of all passengers at the end of the evening, filled me with a sense of importance.
A few weeks after the escape going the wrong way down a one-way street I overheard Marlene, our chapter sweetheart, talking with a few of the guys at one of our meetings about her younger sister. She was telling them how Helane, her sister, was feeling bad because a number of her friends had been asked out on dates and she was always left behind. It was obvious Marlene was trying to be a good older sister and looking for one of the guys to step up to the plate.
Now, my own sister always had the best intentions when it came to looking out for my brother and myself. Certainly I would never want to speak for Neil, and for all I know Peggy may have arranged a wonderful connection for him, but given the collection of young women she selected for me all of whom I am sure had great attributes she had no clue what I was looking for in a date.
It occurred to me that this same lack of sibling intuition may be at work with Marlene, but I was willing to risk it because as far as I was concerned her younger sister was a vision of loveliness. Recognizing the guys with whom she was talking would have to dig even deeper than I would to find the nerve to call Helane, despite her older sister’s attempt to make her seem like easy pickings, I asked if it would be all right if I gave her a call. She never said as much, but given the friendly smile I felt I had her approval.
Before I called I checked to make sure what nights I would have access to the car. Then, assuming my usual place in the basement I took a few deep breaths, and exhaling dialed the phone. We decided to go out for pizza after the basketball game, because she was on the drill team that performed at half time and in between quarters. We were supposed to double with her friend, Pippi, who was also on the drill team, and her date.
A few days before the game Helane stopped me in the hall to let me know Pippi had some kind of family obligation and wouldn’t be able to go out after the game. I asked her if she wanted to call it off or postpone the date for another time. But I think she really wanted to go out on a date, and I wasn’t going to deny her.
At the game I sat in the bleachers by myself and watched as she and the rest of the drill team in their white blouses, v-neck sweaters, pleated skirts and P.F. Flyers with bobby socks turned and stepped with precision around the gymnasium. We met outside the girls’ locker room after the game. As I directed her out of the building and toward the car I noticed a certain level of seriousness in her demeanor.
When we got to the car I attempted to begin a friendly conversation. It went nowhere. As far as I can remember things didn’t get any better at the restaurant or on the drive home. Driving on a date didn’t have quite the appeal I had imagined, and maybe being on a date wasn’t quite as thrilling as she had envisioned. At any rate I am pretty sure it left no lasting scars.
Did you have a teenage date that fell short of expectations? Tell us about it in the comment section.
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