Posts Tagged stunned silence

Dumbfounded

Karin is on duty over at dVerse Poetics tonight, and she’s got us writing about things French. I’m thinking this ain’t what she has in mind, but, hey, French is French!

Back in the day, my best pal Barry and I used to roam the neighborhood late at night. One night, when we were in eighth grade, or maybe freshmen, we ran into a couple of neighborhood girls and experienced an awakening that to this day remains vivid in my mind. I’ll bet you Barry hasn’t forgotten it either. Read the rest of this entry »

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Stunned Silence

Back in the day, my best pal Barry and I used to roam the neighborhood late at night. When we were in eighth grade, or maybe freshmen, we ran into a couple of our female classmates one night and experienced an awakening that to this day remains vivid in my mind. I’ll bet you Barry hasn’t forgotten it either.

Back then—maybe it’s still this way—boys did not date or “go with” girls their own age; it was the custom to date a girl a year or two younger than you. This was one of the reasons what happened around midnight that hot summer night was even more earth-shaking than our usual adventures.

We were standing in the vacant lot behind Diane Darling’s house—Diane was our age—when we heard the unmistakable sound of girls giggling. We both turned to see Diane and her friend, Elaine Calhoun—also our age—emerge from the darkness into the vacant lot, which was dimly lit by a single street light.

Both girls, in our own uninformed opinions, were out of our league; not only because they were the same age as us, but because they were among the prettiest girls in our school. They both had boyfriends a year or two older than we were.

The pair walked up to us, and we all said howdy, or something of the sort, then Diane blurted out a question I will never forget. “Have you guys ever been French kissed?”

Barry and I answered in unison, “No.” I’d heard of the pagan practice of tongue dancing while you kissed a girl, but thought it was strictly an adult thing. I don’t think they even did it in the movies back then.

Diane and Elaine looked at each other, both wearing devious grins and their eyes sparkling in the glow of the streetlight. Barry and I stood frozen, eyes wide and mouths open (how convenient) as we wondered what these two gorgeous girls were about to do.

As if on a silent signal, Diane grabbed Barry, Elaine grabbed me, and they proceeded to thoroughly demonstrate the art of French kissing to two startled and immediately excited adolescent boys. It was a sensation unlike anything either of us had ever experienced, and one we would discuss and analyze at length for many weeks.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, and we stood in stunned silence as the two giggling girls ran toward Diane’s house, vanishing into the darkness. We heard the backdoor of Diane’s house bump shut, then we turned our heads slowly and stared wide-eyed at each other.

As I said, we discussed the event at length for weeks afterward—maybe months or years—but on that night, we said not a word. Barry turned and walked slowly toward his house, and I pivoted and went toward mine, both of us in trance-like states.

I can’t help but say it; those were the good ol’ days!

 Copyright © 2011 C. Mashburn

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