I was a late bloomer in life. Hell I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 30.
Okay, that’s a lie. But it was definitely later than these crazy kids are doing it today.
I don’t think I went out on my first real “date” until I was 16. It wasn’t the fact that I was turned down, it was the fact that I never asked anybody out. At all. I was excruciatingly shy around the ladies when I was a young buck. I’m still shy to a degree, but at least now I talk to them.
Like I said, I was 16 or so and I met this girl, Tori. I balled up and asked her out and, to my shock and amazement, she said yes. Looking back, though, she would have been a fool to say no. It was, after all, ME asking her out. But I’m digressing.
Anyway, we went out a few times, long enough to mess around, but not long enough to be considered dating.
One night she called and asked me to come over to her house and hang out. I said sure, and headed on over. When I got there she sat me down at the kitchen table and told me I just wasn’t what she was looking for and we wouldn’t be going out again.
I played a tough guy, said no problem, and left.
I got into my truck–well, my dad’s truck as I didn’t have a car yet–and started it up. The radio was already on.
And Love Bites by Def Leppard was playing.
I cried like a bitch on the way home.
The best part of the story, though, is a couple months later, Tori was on the front page of the local rag. I can’t remember the headline, but it was one 16-year-old’s story of being addicted to crack.
I just have that effect on the ladies.
On a side note, you can blame Lesley for these two back-to-back Def Leppard posts. Her latest ’80s referencing blogs got me remembering my youth.