Something About Promises

Sandra was gone. Charmaine was trippin’. I had to find somebody junior year and I started peeking in on the girls volleyball team after football practice. I noticed this tall, dark girl with big boobs named Tina. She was gloriously pretty, and one year older. I had to do something fast.

I found out through one of her teammates, a very attractive, buxom white girl that I had actually fooled around with, that Tina was “promised” to some older white guy. The guy was like 23, with a receding hairline, owned a hot rod, and weighed about 300 pounds. What the hell?

Somehow, we all wound up going somewhere in this guy’s hot rod, and I got the chance to ask Tina about this “being promised” stuff. She said it was true, but that she wasn’t enthused about it, or something. I sensed an opening.

We started staring at each other when we passed in the halls. She was not shy about staring at me. They were practically stare-downs. I decided that she was the best looking girl in school. I guess we found a way to cross paths more often.

One day after school, we met up by a girls bathroom upstairs in a two-story building. She had the most beautiful brown eyes. You could look deep into her pupils and see flecks of red, or what I thought was red. (I am color blind! Ha!) I said to myself, Tina’s eyes are brown, but they are the color of love! Her eyes mesmerized me, and she just stood there, looking into my eyes.

The next thing I knew we were unzipping each other’s pants. I could see her panties, and I felt for her mound, shall we say. She took hold of my cock, and we stood there, quietly, while my rod throbbed. I hadn’t had a girl with her hand around my thing before. She kissed me hungrily, and I felt her getting wet. This was the apex of my sexual activity up to this time, and she was so damn beautiful! How did this happen? I didn’t care, but it needed to continue.

We stopped, of course, and got the heck out of there before anybody caught us. We had more assignations like this, but not to that level. We would kiss, and she would make promises about what we could do, and when. Those times didn’t seem to come. Either she was unavailable, or unreachable on the occasions she told me she would be ready for me. What was going on?

Something funny was going on with Tina. I didn’t know what it was, but it caused angst, and doubt. What was she doing? Why couldn’t she come through? It bothered me. I thought we had a connection, but I couldn’t a regular date, much less a consummation of what went on in the North Building near the end of 1980.

Tina did this two more times throughout the 1980’s. Seven years later, I bumped into her at a convenience store across the street from North Kirkwood Middle School, where I went in eighth grade. She gave me her phone number and told me to call her the next day. I called the next day and there was no answer. I actually called her once a week for a year. I would dial her number, and it would ring, and ring, and ring. No one ever picked up. I thought, if somebody would just pick up I could go from there. It didn’t happen. I didn’t get it.

In 1989, I was 25. I was still a virgin. I had gone through college without having intercourse with a woman. It was summer, and I was at Blueberry Hill, at the bar. Tina walked in with a shaggy-looking white dude who looked like he’d been sleeping in a gutter. She saw me and waved him on into the dart room.

I said, “Tina, what’s up? How are you? You know, I tried to reach you forever after I saw you that day at 7-11. What’s going on?” She said something like, “I know…I was in the middle of a move…I should have contacted you,” that kind of thing. She says, “I’ll tell you what: you give me your address and I promise you I will be there tomorrow at 6:30.”

The address was that of my parents. I was between jobs and they were out of town for the weekend. I had the whole place to myself, and it was summertime.

You can imagine that I was somewhat lathered up. The next day came, and I waited until about 4 o’clock to get cleaned up. I put on my Oakland Athletics t-shirt and my gold rope chain I got at St. Louis Centre downtown. I checked myself in the mirror and waited. Tina never showed. I couldn’t reach her. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.

Best believe I didn’t call her weekly for a year. I understood that whatever was going on, it didn’t have anything to do with me. Or did it? Why couldn’t I seal the deal? Was it something about me? I couldn’t understand if we both liked each other, and I was such hot shit, why wasn’t it happening? I didn’t hear about this kind of thing happening to other guys. My stories seemed to stand out for weirdness. I started to ruminate about my predicament. I had trouble letting go of situations such as this one.

There seemed to be a pattern with me of putting out, of giving my all to get a girl, and the girls I chose could not, or would not, reciprocate. It was always a one-way street. Couldn’t they see how special I was, how different I was from the other guys? This was officially a mystery that I needed to solve.

 

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