The Art of Being Stupid Begins
Friday May 15th, 1981 was about to be the greatest day of my life. When the sun went down that evening I would still be a jackass but at least there'd be some improvement in this wretched thing called the being I was. After twenty-eight years of being an idiot, I was finally getting laid. Thank God for that angel by the name of Linda.
For most of my existence I'd been a fat ass, four-eyed and terrified of girls, that's a statement of fact. A jackass, real simple. Blame it on anything up to and including being raised American Baptist, it didn't matter, facts are facts. For a lot of reasons in early 1981 I went nuts. Stopped smoking and got healthy. Stopped eating and got thin. Got a pair of contact lens and could see. I even paid attention in grad school, not that it had any purpose in life. After all, I was still terrified of women and then there she was.
I was drinking coffee at McDonald's across from the university that Wednesday morning, killing time waiting for class. For no apparent reason I watch the city transit bus pull to a stop across the street, let some people off and pull away. This beauty of a woman was standing there, waist length chestnut hair, flannel overshirt, jeans, book bag and white cane. Shit, a blind girl going to college? I was impressed. I was a jackass. I pitched the coffee and followed her to see what this was all about.
At least followed her to the first intersection. We're college snots, we only thought about ourselves, not the disabled beauty trying to figure out traffic. I don't know where it came from, this rare bit of courage that infected me at the moment.
"Hi, pretty lady. Can I help?"
Whether it was the compliment or the offer of assistance doesn't matter, I got a smile. By the time we'd gotten to her class I also had a name, life story and a date to take a walk that afternoon after class. I'm no looker but I must have talked well. I was apparently about to talk a lot better than I ever knew possible.
That was about 9 that Wednesday morning when we'd met. By 3 that afternoon we'd established the Park of Roses isn't in bloom the third week of May. We'd also established sitting on a fallen log kissing was nice but back in my car would be better. We were going to establish a lot of other things real fast as well.
Little things like Linda loved getting felt up, especially since she didn't like to wear a bra, 34C's or not. She also loved having her nipples sucked, even when her moans made me crazy and I broke the skin. Linda definitely liked having her jeans unsnapped and caresses down there where she wasn't wearing panties either. What she really loved was the finger in her and coming all over it. So much so she really thought she'd love me taking her back to her place and finishing the deed I'd started.
I'm a jackass, I panicked. I'd beat off just before I'd picked her up. I'd never had the sticky finger before. I'm an idiot. I dredged up a lame excuse and begged off. Friday though. Friday, let's do it then. Deal.
Thirty-six hours blurs, I've got no idea what I did or thought. All that matters was I was supposed to be at her place on Broadmeadows at 9 on Friday morning. She'd be waiting, it would be nice and that was all good. I'm a jackass and I was parked there at 8.