Von

Although it happened more than 18 years ago, I still remember it pretty well.

The year was 1990. A year in which:
— DC mayor Marion Berry got busted with crack.
— Buster Douglas KOed Mike Tyson for the heavyweight title.
— George HW Bush was acting President of the United States.
— Home Alone and Ghost were the two top-grossing films of the year.

And, most importantly, I was a 13-year-old, soon-to-be eighth-grader enjoying the final days of summer.

See, the worst thing about the end of the summer was the cold, harsh reality that school would be starting soon.

And I hated school. With a passion.
Not because I wasn’t a good student. No, I despised school because I was a socially awkward nerd who’d always get clowned. Relentlessly. For not rockin’ the hottest clothes or name-brand gym shoes. For wearing taped-up bifocals. For just about anything, really.

Consequently, I wanted nothing more than to cherish the last few days of summer.

As a kid, there was nothing better than summertime.
No school. And we could play all day without a care in the world.

Me and my buddies could usually be found hangin’ out at the playground—our grade-school equivalent to the club. The finest girls would always be there. Rockin’ their skimpy daisy dukes and other provocative garments. If anything was more appealing to us puberty-stricken kids than sports and video games—it was girls.

One Saturday afternoon, me and my boy decided to go one last time before school started. To holla at some young ladies. He was smooth with the ladies, whereas I was shy and timid. Whenever I did attempt to holla, the ladies said I talked like a “white boy,” ’cause I used proper English (“we” were brainwashed even back then).

 

That particular day I caught the eye of a girl playing on the swings.

I don’t remember much about her—just that she was dark skinned and “thick.”

We talked. I was so nervous, but I hid it pretty well.
She wasn’t even turned off by my “white boy” accent—and even complimented me on my legs.
Soon we made our way behind the basketball court, sitting on a bench.
My boy left so I could do my thing. Her girls did too.

It was just the two of us. Her sitting on my lap and my arms around her waist.

 

When she gazed into my eyes, I knew what was supposed to happen next. But I’d never made out with a girl before. All I knew was what I saw on TV.

I started to panic.

“Please, Lord! Don’t let me screw this up!“

 

She closed her eyes and puckered up. I did the same.
I followed her lead and took it slowly.
Next she slipped me the tongue. I did the same.
It wasn’t sloppy or awkward. After a while it just felt natural.

We made out for a couple minutes in all.

 

It was all that I thought it’d be. And more.

 

As the sun began to set that night, she told me that she had to get going. Before she left, I told her I’d like to see her again. She wouldn’t give me her number (this was before the cell phone era), but she said she’d meet me there the next day. At the same time.

I waited for her that Sunday for what seemed like an eternity.

She never came.

Dammit!

 

It’d prove to be the first of many misadventures I’d have with women.

 

But I’ll always remember that night in the park.