Original Sin

"I don't consider myself a black person." As soon as she said it, I knew she was black. I didn't care. She was a girl, and she wanted to meet me. She could have been green with pink polka-dots. She was a girl, and she wanted to meet me. Besides, she was a full year and a bit older than me. And she was a girl, and she wanted to meet me.

I met her at the end of her street, across from the dep. I went up to her and asked, "Looking for someone?" She said, "No one but you." Or it might have been the other way around. Or that might just have been something we told people when they asked us how we met. I think we walked around a bit. I might have bought some soft drinks. If there was a parting kiss, it was not one I remember.

I remember our second date more clearly. We drove to the lookout, and everyone knows what that's for. I had very little experience French-kissing; I had never done it with anyone who knew how, and I sure as hell didn't. I must have learned quickly, because about 10 minutes in, she stopped suddenly, stared at me, and said the words that a 17-year-old boy least wants to hear from the girl whose tongue has been dancing with his: "I love you." I must have blacked out then, because the next thing I remember is we were snogging again, apparently having forgotten about something, but I wasn't quite sure what. All in all, it was a good second date.

As I was getting ready for our third date, I had two songs in my head, Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad and Tonight's The Night. I have always been a fan of Marvin, and never much cared for Roderick, so naturally I went with the song that made me think I was going to get laid. She was a girl, and she wanted to meet me, again. This virgin child was ready for the secret to unfold.

We drove around looking for a place to park. I was to become a man in a 1972 yellow two-door Gran Torino with brown vinyl upsholstery. We settled on a quiet street with houses on one side and a field on the other. Just as we were going over what I had already learned, the porch lights went on at the house directly across from us, the front door opened, and a silhouetted figure emerged to peer intently in our direction. I was not to become a man on that street. Or any other, it seemed; we couldn't find one that was suitable.

We abandoned the Torino at the north end of the park that borders Chester Ave. We took the blanket, found a nice spot near the swings, and continued where we had left off. I must have remembered what I had learned, because about 10 minutes in, she stopped suddenly, stared at me, and said the words that a 17-year-old boy most wants to hear from the girl whose tongue has been dancing with his: "You wanna fuck?"

I was a bit unclear on the question, so I asked her to clarify: "Do you?"  I don't remember the exact words that followed, but we clarified the question. Twice. I must have learned quickly, because afterwards she asked me when my first time had been, and didn't believe me when I told her. All in all, it was a good third date.