MEMOIRIST IDOL

Making Out after Prom and the Humiliating Aftermath

Oh, to be seventeen with all that backseat excitement!

Molten lava. Chili peppers. Motorcycle exhaust burns. Levi blue jean buttons out of the drier on your belly.

And then there’s teenage love in the backseat of a Chevy! Hot, hot, hot!

I needed a dress for Prom, and I found one that was just right

The tiny straps on my long dress meant it would be easy to slip them down. The elastic-stitched bodice meant easy access. My heart raced trying it on. I imagined it slipping off my shoulders the night of prom, in my boyfriend’s backseat!

I was all a-flutter thinking about my tall blond-haired boyfriend with angel-blue eyes kissing my neck and then licking his way south to plant some inspired hickeys on my décolletage.

I don’t usually like blond guys. They’re too pretty. This guy, though, had golden hair and dark blue eyes. He was skinny, with attitude. He was just plain hot. He stared me in the eyes and made smart-ass comments, then laughed. Never broke gaze. Cocky as hell.

After the dance, we got in his car, some big boat of a Chevy

We pulled in a dirt lane near my parents’ house so we could spend an hour parking. I recall steamy car windows, and lots of Eagles tunes along with our awkward rabbiting around.

Tears of liquid rolled down those windows. We were like Dim sum buns, steaming away! The atmosphere was humid.

The car rocked like an off-balance washing machine.

We may have hopped into the back seat and sprawled all over the leather. We probably took sips from a fifth of Jack Daniels. We may have done body shots, licking booze off each other.

We were the wild ones. We may have kissed back and forth, sharing mouthfuls of sweet coca cola, and could have smoked a joint. That is possible.

After a fulfilling session of making out and getting love-drunk, my blond love interest started the car and put it in reverse.

Oh, man. We were in trouble

The Oregon rains had picked up, which we didn’t notice as we were in a world all of our own! We unrolled the windows and saw the rain had turned the dirt road into inches of thick mud.

We were screwed. Oh, yes, indeed. This was not good. We decided to check in with the nearest neighbor.

Back then, he would have been about thirty years old. Seeing two teenagers in their prom attire completely soaked with mud up to their knees must have been quite a sight!

The mature neighbor man was snickering. Leering. Laughing. Shaking his head. I could have died!

We deserved it all.

Boyfriend said, “We were driving in to the farm on the backroad, and just got stuck!”

Yeah, right, sonny boy, the neighbor’s face said it all.

Putting on my Little-House-on-the-Prairie face of concern, I pulled my lacy shawl around my shoulders and nodded. Indeed, Neighbor Jones, the creek she’s a-rising! Mighty dangerous!

My body was on passionate fire and may have been glowing or preparing to explode like fireworks. The cold rain was cooling my jets fast though.

My lacy dress clung to me like saran wrap.

Neighbor Jones fired up the tractor and towed us out

I have to say, it was pretty damn embarrassing.

But was it worth it? Oh, hell yes. I’d do it all over again to have that night with my boyfriend.

Around 1:00 in the morning I got home to a pitch-dark house.

I quietly turned the doorknob and tiptoed in. I raced upstairs to my bedroom to strip off my muddy dress and crawl into bed, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

“She’s home,” I heard Mom say quietly to Dad. They worried until we were in the door.

I stretched and pressed my body against the sheets with a deep sigh.

The next day, I walked out to the mailbox. In the ditch, flowing toward me, was my corsage from the night before.

It was a hot pink carnation with a white ribbon.

I fished it out of the icy water, and held it to my nose.

And smiled.

Thanks for reading my story! Hey, have you read Mike Hickman’s memoir yet? I loved this one by him. He’s got a fun sense of humor. Give him a read!