Musta hit a Christmas pocket. Card with three holly-based candles from my old college roommate Char and "my favorite Bruce." Wonder if they ever got married. Wonder if they're still married.
I used to have to double-date with Char. Her boyfriend Bruce had a best friend whose name I have erased from the memory banks. I was always cajoled into coming along with them to "chaperone." This may have been the 60's, but they hadn't kicked in yet, and it certainly wasn't San Francisco.
There was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go in Carthage, Illinois in 1961 - or 1962 - or 1963, for that matter. What we did was get in cars and go park somewhere. Someone usually did have a car. There wasn't even bus service into Carthage. Somebody (some upperclassman) would buy the booze, and we would just all drink. I suppose we would also laugh it up and have a good time, but I did not have a good time with Bruce's best friend.
I thought I was relatively safe, since I did not get pressed into this duty until my sophomore year and by that time I was safely engaged to Larry. More fool me. Nothing stopped this bozo from wanting to fool around as much as a "chaperoned" date could possibly do, and that was quite a bit in the back seat in the dark with the couple in front paying little or no attention to anything else going on around them anyway. I defended myself with the whiskey bottle. Not to hit him over the head or anything actually useful like that. But I would use it to come up for air, insisting that I wanted another drink. I rarely wanted another drink, and I came to dread these "dates" because I would invariably get dizzy and sick and tired of fending off the buddy. I was never a very good alcoholic.
I don't remember if I ever told Larry about this. I didn't count it as cheating, because I would sooner have stuck pokers in my eyes than get into any serious mischief with Bruce's buddy. It was just kind of embarrassing that I ever actually went out with the creep in the first place. He was from the "other" fraternity. He wasn't cool at all.
I used to have to double-date with Char. Her boyfriend Bruce had a best friend whose name I have erased from the memory banks. I was always cajoled into coming along with them to "chaperone." This may have been the 60's, but they hadn't kicked in yet, and it certainly wasn't San Francisco.
There was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go in Carthage, Illinois in 1961 - or 1962 - or 1963, for that matter. What we did was get in cars and go park somewhere. Someone usually did have a car. There wasn't even bus service into Carthage. Somebody (some upperclassman) would buy the booze, and we would just all drink. I suppose we would also laugh it up and have a good time, but I did not have a good time with Bruce's best friend.
I thought I was relatively safe, since I did not get pressed into this duty until my sophomore year and by that time I was safely engaged to Larry. More fool me. Nothing stopped this bozo from wanting to fool around as much as a "chaperoned" date could possibly do, and that was quite a bit in the back seat in the dark with the couple in front paying little or no attention to anything else going on around them anyway. I defended myself with the whiskey bottle. Not to hit him over the head or anything actually useful like that. But I would use it to come up for air, insisting that I wanted another drink. I rarely wanted another drink, and I came to dread these "dates" because I would invariably get dizzy and sick and tired of fending off the buddy. I was never a very good alcoholic.
I don't remember if I ever told Larry about this. I didn't count it as cheating, because I would sooner have stuck pokers in my eyes than get into any serious mischief with Bruce's buddy. It was just kind of embarrassing that I ever actually went out with the creep in the first place. He was from the "other" fraternity. He wasn't cool at all.
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