My First Date

My first date was with John .... um ...... Oppenheimer? Schmittenheimer? Something like that. (Ha ha! What a great memory I have!) I was in seventh grade, and we double dated with Janet Holst (that bitch) and John's best friend, whose name escapes me (what a surprise!). I think we went to a movie or something, and then back to someone's house, where we, of course, played a kissing game (nope, I don't remember the game exactly, just that it involved going into a closet and kissing your date).

Anyway, all I really remember was getting back home, and one of my sisters commenting something along the lines of, "Oh my God! Look at her hair! Look at her clothes! She's all disheveled!" I swear, I distinctly remember the word "disheveled". We read a lot at my house. I remember my mom telling my sister to stop picking on me.

SO, I violently denied that anything untoward happened on my first date, and sat down to watch some TV. A while later, I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and .... ooops. Mussed up hair, "disheveled" clothing, the whole nine yards.

And I still have no idea to this day why mom didn't raise holy hell when I walked through the door that night. Maybe the fact that she raised four other girls before I came along had something to do with it?