Dating during the fifties
10/12/03 11:54 AM
The young people of today (1999) would find it hard to believe there was a time when it was a challenge for a guy to catch a girl. That most girls were intimidated by boys and were somewhat bashful and innocent. Girls did not approach boys nor did they ever dream of calling one on the phone. It just was not done. Certainly not like the outgoing females of today. The change started in the sixties, the era of the flower children and hippies, but that is another story.
The tables have turned and innocence is almost a faded memory. Just get around a table or in a room full of people and ask, "What on earth is this world coming to?" The conversation is guaranteed to go off in 47 different directions. This happened recently and I had the chance to tell one of my all-time favorite stories.
I’m sure I was not the only dumb little girl in the village nor was I the only one who found herself walking home from a date. That was not my idea of a fun date! I remember the time (when I was working for Harvey and Virgie Soulek at the Silver Leaf Café in Chamberlain) I went on a date with one of the men working on the construction of the Big Bend Dam or the road construction in the area. Doesn’t matter .
I had gone to the drive-in movie with this "real nice guy" (and I use this term loosely). Standard procedure in those days was to go to the show, have a soda and popcorn then "drag Main" a couple of times after the movie. Okay … now what to do? Oh yes, I remember … park.
This "cool" jerk drives around behind the old jailhouse (west of the present-day jail), parks and douses the lights apparently just like it said in the manual all guys seemed to go by. Every move they made was as if their actions came from check-off lists.
I think it was the darkness that caused these extra 17 arms to come out from under their shirts. I never did quite figure out just how that worked. Shirley reminded me this morning in the office that it was always said that guys had and "Russian hands" and " "Roman fingers". I had forgotten about that!
Anyway, the little warm-up kiss always preceded the wrestling match. Then, when the windows were all steamed up from the wrestling match (before tinted windows so no one could see in or out?) and the jerk proclaimed himself the captor once more, the totally exhausted female was given THE ULTIMATUM …"put out or get out."
Well, here goes Barbara, walking again. But this time, the joke was on the jerk. I was renting a room from Mary Leiferman, I believe her name was, so I just walked around behind the car, through the gate and into the house. Ha. I loved it!
I think this is where my learned grandson Morgan would ask if this is "fact or fiction." There are many of you who are reading this and know personally, exactly from which I speak. I remember walking home in the rain once with the driver begging me to get in and "please don’t tell mom." Ha. What a "man" he was.