The Dating Years

THE DATING YEARS

          As a teen, there was nothing to stimulate a desire for romance, and I wasn’t much of a reader. We didn’t have television or computers, and I didn’t go on a date until after my sixteenth birthday. My parents were strict in that sense and I never pressed the issue on dating. The only boys that I socialized with were the neighborhood boys, especially my brothers’ friends.


          After graduating from parochial grade school, I attended an all-girl high school. Most of the girls talked about their relationships with boys and the dates they had. Now, I had a renewed interest, and I waited for my turn in the dating game. However, I was never asked to go out. It wasn’t that I was unattractive, although I didn’t wear makeup, other than lip-gloss, until after my sixteenth birthday. I was shy in nature, and never intentionally put out signals for the opposite sex.


         Then one day, one of my friends thought it would be nice for us to go on dates as a group. Arrangements were made through her boyfriend. I was introduced to the boyfriend’s cousin, and I became his date. We went to the circus, and afterward stopped at a diner for a bite to eat. It was really a pleasant evening, especially since it was my first time at the circus.


          My date, Tony, was dressed in a light suit. He was tall and slim with slick, black hair and he had a thin moustache. My first impression of him was that he looked like a young Caesar Romero, but not as handsome. He was polite and well mannered, but we both strained to find interesting things to say to one another at first. Arrangements were made to go out again as a group, and I went along as Tony’s date. We all went to the movies. In the darkened theater, Tony placed his arm around me, and I relaxed in his embrace. Then he tried to kiss me on the lips, and I gently pushed him away. Tony didn’t make an issue of the situation, and the rest of the evening was uneventful.


          We went out often as a group of three couples, and I must say they were wonderful times. We went to a ballgame and saw the Dodgers playing. We even went to see a burlesque show in New Jersey. If my memory serves me right, the name of the theater or show was Minsk’s. I enjoyed being in the group and going with Tony. We would walk hand in hand and chatter away with one another and the others. I would give Tony a friendly peck on the lips upon greeting and again when we parted for the evening. I would always push him away any time he tried to kiss me ardently. That fellow was very patient, but I just didn’t want to become intimate with him. At that time, my idea of intimacy was just that, a long kiss on the lips. The message that was in my head was that if you let a guy kiss you long and hard, he had to be your true love and the shining knight that you would spend your whole life with. You’ll marry him, have children, and live happily ever after. What did I know at that time! Needless to say, I was not asked to go out with Tony anymore.


          After some chiding from my friends that it wasn’t a sin to slow kiss a guy on a date, I was prepared to change my way of thinking. I would let a guy kiss me, but only if I was attracted to him. Occasionally, I would go on dates, but I never went steady with anybody. I would break up the relationship as soon as it became apparent that it was becoming serious.


          I kept busy with my daytime job as a Steno-typist in Manhattan. Usually, I would meet up with the girls after work and we would do something such as see a show, go bowling, or roller skate, attend a party, etc. Sometimes, we would plan our vacations together and go to a resort Upstate New York or to the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania. We had good times and enjoyed some fun days with other vacationers. I was over eighteen, yet, I remained naïve, and no situation presented itself that would compromise my innocence until one scary evening.


          During work on a summer day, I received a call from one of my friends, Gloria, an attractive well-bosomed girl. She wanted to spend the evening walking around Coney Island in Brooklyn. She asked if I would keep her company. I was hesitant, but it did sound exciting. I told her that I would just have to let my mom know what we plan to do, and if it were okay with her, I would be happy to go. My mother trusted my judgment and gave her consent, but somehow she made me feel guilty for things that I hadn't done. When I went somewhere with my friends or on a date, her famous last words as I left the house were always “Have a good time. Just don’t do anything that will make me ashamed that you’re my daughter.” My mom certainly knew how to keep me on my toes.


          So after dinner, we boarded the electric trolley down the street from my home. It rode the flattened steel tracks that took us to our exciting destination. Once there, we walked along the boardwalk and joined the other strollers, taking in the sights and gala lights of the rides and shows. With night, the air was cool and slightly damp. The smell of the ocean invaded our nostrils, but the aroma of food from the concessions took precedent and was so tempting. Since we already had dinner, we just bought a soda.


          During the evening, we caught up with some guys that Gloria was acquainted with. I was wondering now if this was all planned ahead. After introductions, we paired off, but stayed together until it was time to go back home. Somehow, the guy I was walking with asked me out on a date, and on impulse I agreed to go out with him. His name was Al, and he wanted me to meet him at a designated place the following evening, after which we would see a show and then have dinner someplace. I insisted that he pick me up at my home so that my mom could meet him. I was so relieved when he agreed and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I had some reservations about going out alone with a guy I just met. I liked his looks, though. He had a ruddy complexion, was tall and well muscled. He had gorgeous blond hair. I knew he had to be in his middle twenties, and I was flattered that he liked me well enough to ask me out.


          The following day, I went to work in a trance. I was thinking, “Could this be the man of my dreams, my shining knight?” I couldn’t wait to get back home from work and prepare for my date with this handsome man. I bathed and drove myself crazy in an attempt to wear something nice yet not too dressy in order to impress my Prince for the evening. Fortunately, I didn’t have many choices to pick from. I finally donned a ruffled peasant blouse and a black skirt. Satisfied with the way I looked, I put the finishing touches on my makeup, combed my hair the best way that I could, and waited for the sound of the bell at the front door.


          I rushed to the front door at the first ring, but I didn’t let him in until after the bell sounded again. Al struck a handsome pose in his t-shirt and jeans, and, at that moment, I thought I was in love. He slowly followed me into the kitchen, and I introduced him to my mom. I had wished that my dad was there to see him, too, but he was at work. After some small talk, we left the house and got into his car.


          After traveling for some time, Al mentioned that it was too late to go to the theater. He had made an error with the time. He asked if we could just stop for a while and then we would go for a bite. He promised that we would go to a show on another evening. Gullibly, I consented and we wound up in Plum Beach near the Rockaway’s. I knew we would engage in some necking of sorts, and I was prepared for that. But, then I realized that this was a mature man and he was getting too familiar with me. My stomach was churning on the inside. In an instant I knew that I made a grave mistake. He was making advances that I neither accepted nor desired from someone whom I just met. I was really frightened and angry with him and myself for getting into this predicament. While being firm in turning him away, I kept telling him that our date was to be a show and dinner and nothing else. I said that I was a good girl and was never intimate with a man in the way he intended. I even told him that I was keeping pure for my intended husband some day. I know that sounds kind of ridiculous, but that’s how I was brought up and most importantly, that was how I felt then.


          At first he didn’t believe me and remarked that there was no such thing as a good girl. He was being forceful, and had his hands and body all over me. I think I kicked him in the groin with my knee, because he cried out in pain. I pleaded with him to either take me home that instant or that I would scream and exit the car. I was taking some chance. The man could have raped and tossed me out like a discarded doll. We were parked in a desolate part of the beach. On the inside, I was praying to Jesus to forgive me for straying, and forgive my sins. I promised Him that if I survived this ordeal, I would be a better Catholic and follow His teachings. I prayed and prayed. For a few moments, there was dead silence inside that automobile, and then the man turned over the motor of the car and drove me back home. No words were spoken until we stopped in front of my home. I was the first to say that I was sorry that I gave him the wrong idea that I was easy. All he said was “I’m sorry, too.”


          I was so happy to be back home safe and sound. I went to bed that night with a new gained knowledge of life and peace in my heart. My mother didn’t question what I did on my date or why I came home early. I was so grateful for that. Perhaps she knew, because I never saw Al ever again. God was watching me from the beginning, and now I look back at my experience as a test of endurance and faith. I came through unscathed because of it. I still believe that an angel whispered in my ear to make sure that my date picked me up at my home. I believe that made the difference in the outcome. Either that, or Al was basically a good guy, but he picked on the wrong girl to fool around with.



Note:

I survived that summer, and a few months later, the dating game was finally over. The man of my dreams came into my life in November of 1952, and he was my date for life. We got engaged the following May, and became man and wife a year later in the month of June.

Written on June 05, 2004
by Dorothy M. Ercole

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