Author's note: This is a true story, which could account for it's popularity (I get more feedback from this than others). I won't go into how close any others are to reality, in order to keep the mystery. ;) Enjoy!
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Well, I suppose I should introduce myself here. My name is John, I grew up in the southwestern suburbs of Chicago and I think I have the best older brother in the world. His name is Carl and he's four years older than I am. I wouldn't let my friends know it, but I'd always been a shy kid. All this happened when I was 18 and in high school. I had never been with a girl before. I mean "with" a girl. Girls liked me in high school because I was a "sweet guy". I was a poet, I had a good singing voice (I performed in school musicals and choir) and I was "sensitive". I didn't really mind this attention. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed it, all the way through my sophomore year.
My brother was always curious why I hadn't had a girlfriend come over. I said I had girl-friends, but not really any girlfriends. Toward the end of my sophomore year, I got a part time job, changed my hairstyle and started buying in-style clothes. Then I started getting noticed. Well anyway, let me explain the two incidents that got me confused about girls.
First, the summer of my sophomore to junior year a friend down the block invited me to a party. I invited a girl named Jean that had been exceptionally friendly to me before school had let out.
This party started out as most, in the den, with the flashing lights and crazy music. The guys' parents were gone for the weekend, and his older sister didn't care what he did as long as he kept it down some and the place didn't get wrecked. She didn't know some of the kids were sneaking booze in, but it never got noticed or out of hand.
Jean and I were slow dancing. It was about 10:00, the lights went down, and I noticed that there were just couples around. They were on the couch, chairs, carpet and you name it. I started getting uncomfortable quickly. I really didn't know what to do. About the time I became conscious of this, I pulled my head back and looked at her. She looked at me, smiled and then looked away. Since we were obviously the only ones dancing, I asked her if she wanted to sit down. She said "sure". We found a couple of chairs at a small card table in the corner of the den. We sat down, listened to the music and looked around for a while.
Yes. It was as awkward as it sounds. We were sitting right next to each other, and I had my arm around her on the chair. I really don't want to get into the long idle conversation we were trying to have, because it was embarrassing enough. At one point, she said she liked the song that was playing and rested her head on my shoulder. I was nervous. Of course I liked it, too. A moment later, she looked up. Our faces were close together. I knew if there was to be a cue in here somewhere, I just got it.
I turned my head and kissed her. Her lips were soft and her kiss was kind. She reached up and put her hand on my face gently as we kissed. I felt like the bottom dropped out of everything. The music was a thousand miles away, and it was as if no one else was in the room. Her hand slid down around my waist and rested against my side as we continued kissing. Then I blew it.
I swear I had no "evil" intentions as I put my hand on her leg. It was a place to put my hand; that was it. She had a skirt on that was only about an inch above her knee, so I didn't even touch skin. I just put my hand down. She jumped like I had touched everything personal she had.
"No! I don't want to...."
And that was the end of the night. I'll be honest. I felt like a stupid idiot... and I hadn't even had any intention of starting anything! I apologized over and over. As she kept her distance, I realized I should offer to walk her home.
Even today, I don't blame Jean for what happened next. I got depressed during the summer. When school started again, my wardrobe and appearance had gotten better. My "talents" for music and poetry had also improved because of my depression. I was getting more attention. Some of the more attractive girls were coming to me now. I was becoming "popular". But now there was a big problem.
Then came the second incident. I had girls coming to me that guys were drooling over. Some I went out with. I had a job, money and my older brother sometimes let me use his car. My relationships were usually short. One day in school, I found out why. I was walking down the crowded hall between classes with my current girlfriend, an attractive strawberry blonde. We had been seeing each other for a couple of months. Because of my "clumsy" mistake with Jean, I had never even tried to kiss her. We stopped at her locker so she could get something out. I backed up as she turned around to close the locker door. She got a big frown on her face and practically yelled out in the hall...
"What? Are you afraid to touch me?"
That really did it. Kids in the hall were looking at me. Some in sympathy, others snickering. I walked away from her and avoided girls altogether for the first half of my junior year, even though some hinted that I should see someone (some obviously hinting it should be them). I was just afraid I would do something stupid again.
Friends were trying to cheer me up. Academically, I was actually doing ok. My talent for singing, poetry and story writing improved with my depression (although the subjects of my writings were either about lost love or horror stories).
I don't know if someone told my brother, or if he noticed it himself, but he started asking questions. He finally got around to asking the right (or "wrong") questions and got it out of me. I think he could see that I was trying to hold the tears back as I started explaining everything that had happened. He could probably hear it in my voice, if nothing else. We had our "brotherly" fights and tiffs, but he was really concerned about what I was going through. He asked me if I'd talked to Mom or Dad about it. I asked him if he was joking. He tried to help, explain things, but my depression had been going on so long that I wasn't listening any more.
Summer came again and junior year let out. I wasn't going to parties. I went to work at the drugstore, bought junk food, watched TV, worked out and took long bicycle rides alone. My brother, who was now a sophomore at a local community college, was getting worried about me. He had moved to an apartment by the college, but came by the house often. I wasn't up to roughhousing around with him much anymore. Inside, I think I was even jealous of his way with the girls. He would sometimes stop by before going out and often had a very attractive college girl with him. In another way, I suppose I felt happy for him.
Then came the night I'll never forget. My brother came by the house one Tuesday night and said he had a problem; he wanted to know if I could help. He had done more than enough for me, including keeping me out of trouble with Mom and Dad when I screwed up a couple of times. I told him as long as it wasn't some kind of trick, sure! Carl said his whole evening was getting screwed up in one morning. He and his girlfriend Cynthia were supposed to go to a play at a local candlelight theater with her parents. Her parents couldn't make it due to the fact that her aunt had gone to the hospital. At the same time, one of his girlfriends' best friends came into town and his girlfriend didn't feel right going without her. He wanted to know if I would go to the play with her girlfriend.
At first I laughed.
"You have to be kidding," I said. "How old is she?"
My brother grinned.
"She's almost 19, but don't worry about it. She won't mind, she wants to see the play and Cynthia. And I just don't want to waste the money on the ticket."
I'd always been a pretty logical kid so it only took a few seconds to give the ok. First, it was a favor for my brother. Second, I'd never seen a play in a theater. Third, the girl (well, woman) was only one year older than I was and fourth, it was a favor for my brothers girlfriend. What the hell.
My brother came by the house again about 6:30 that evening. I had taken a shower and thought I was ready to go. Carl thought otherwise. He helped me pick out some clothes that would go well with the outing. I never even got that dressed up to go to church.
We walked out to the car and I hopped in the back. Carl said he had to pick up Cynthia's girlfriend at a hotel in the loop, because it was where she was staying while she was in town. At the time, I thought it was a little strange to have to go all the way downtown Chicago and come back for a play, but hey, she was from out of town.
When we pulled up in front of the Hyatt, Carl opened the door and stood up outside. The doorman came from the door and asked my brother if he needed help. "Just a minute" he said and walked into the hotel. The doorman grumbled something about the fact that he couldn't park there. It was only a few seconds before he came back out. He was walking out with a fabulously attractive girl with long, wavy black hair. She was wearing a sparkling blue ruffled dress that came down to about three inches above her knees. She was tall and had beautiful long legs. Her face was so gorgeous that I swore I'd never seen anyone like her.
She walked around the car and got in the seat behind Cynthia. She sat up, kissed Cynthia on the cheek and asked her how she was doing. Cynthia smiled, said she was fine and asked her how she was. Cynthia raised an eyebrow and looked at Carl. I guess I should have known something was up then, but at the time, I was much too entranced by this girl.
After her funny look at my brother, Cynthia turned around.
"This is Laura."
