My girlfriend's daughter Alicia is the child I never had, so we're perhaps even closer than she is to her mother. She came to me with quivery lips when she had her first period. She agreed to make her Mom take her shopping when I insisted a 12-year-old girl needed a training bra.
So I wasn't surprised when she asked if I'd had any boyfriends, probably thinking that a single lady ready for the rest home at age 39 was beyond dreams. "Who was your first guy, Aunt Gloria?" she asked me. "The first one who — you know — who you really got it on with?"
"My first lover, or one of the most memorable?" I was teasing just to see her flustered as we sat on the patio enjoying a spring thaw.
She shrugged a young adult's shrug that meant
Tell me anything about boys, why they act like such boys, and what do you do with a boy who comes on to you like a slobbery puppy dog.
"Well, the most memorable was when I was living in New York, in what they called the East Village, with the artists and would-be writers and, you know, the
bohemians
. There was a fellow we called the Panther."
"Like he was a real tiger, huh?"
"No, actually, he was very shy. About 18 or 19. I asked him about his nickname and he said his real name was Theophilous Washington.
"'That's a heck of a name,'" I told him, "and he explained his first name mean Love of God."
"'And your last name?' I inquired. 'For George Washington, the father of our country?' And he said, 'No, there were two Washingtons. George and Booker T. But you can call me Panther.'
Back then there was a rough bunch called the Black Panthers making headlines, and since he was a light-skinned black fellow I asked if he was a rebel."
"'No,'" he told me, 'I'm nicknamed for that German division in World War II."
"That's
Panzer
," I corrected him.
"Not if your German teacher has a lisp."
"I knew from his smile that he was putting me on. This kind of word teasing added years to his character, except when he had to talk to a girl. He was always hanging around the neighborhood looking for girls that summer. All frantic and unfocused. He'd come up to a girl like me, cool as anything, and blurt out 'What's a chick like you doing in a nice place like this?'"
"I know," Alicia said. "Guy in my class. We say he gets all stammery when he sees a mammary, and that's when we sort of hoist our breasts and laugh."
"Hmm, I'll remember that," I told her. "He'd also say something weird, like 'Can you help me? Someone's been putting my phone number in all the ladies' rooms and I'm going nuts.'"
"
Je-sus
, that's bad," Alicia said.
"Tragically, he believed he was never going to lose his virginity. His Dad owned an art gallery, and Panther went to the United Nations private school, but he moaned that even the arty rich girls who came into the gallery thought he was just a kid. 'They laugh an pat me on the head,' he moaned."
"So, in spite of your age difference..." Alicia offered, searching for the climax of this story.
"In spite of my being a few years older, and an art school drop-out who was waitressing, I had a body that would make the devil quote scripture. My taut breasts and 22-inch waist made some artists I knew go mad to see me naked. My butt wasn't bad either. So, for a little extra money once, I let a photographer take pictures of me for one of those men's magazines. The rent was due and I didn't want to call home for money. And that's how Panther came to my rescue."
"He saw you naked?" Alicia's eyes were popping out of her head.
"It happened like this. Some kids were coming on to me, grabbing my breasts and yanking at my purse when Panther ran up and shouted real loud, 'I've already called the cops. They know these kids and they're coming over from the precinct.' The kids took off running. I gave Panther a real big kiss on the lips."
"Wow, he saved a damsel in distress. I love it!"
