Photo by Gerrie Vernon
My Real Memoir
The He Man Woman Haters Club
The day I discovered girls came shortly after, inspired by the Little Rascals TV show, Jeff (of Jeff-and-Rory fame) and I formed a “He Man Woman Haters Club — No Girlz Allowd!” (Rory couldn’t attend because, in a stroke of vicious irony, he had to clean his kid sisters’ room.) We met two times in a “secret” clubhouse (Jeff’s garage), to talk about “man stuff.” It was profoundly…boring.
I resigned. Which left Jeff as the only remaining member, so he resigned too. The problem was, I liked girls. A lot. Liked talking to them. Liked looking at them. But the real deal-sealer came when I skinned my elbow on the school blacktop. A tender-hearted older woman, a 3rd grader, saw me crying, and rubbed my shoulders as she escorted me to the nurse’s office.
“That must have hurt,” the nurse observed. “No, it felt good!” I said. I was thinking about that life-altering shoulder-rub, not my elbow. Still, I had no future with older women.
And Then I Met Lisa
I’d already been in love with my 1st grade teacher Miss Peggy, and with Nurse Sandy at the hospital where I’d had my super-secret operation. But this was the first actual girl-girl I’d fallen for. Lisa was a tall, dark-haired beauty who loved reading as much as I did. It was like at first sight! I walked her home from school, and told her I couldn’t stay. But then we talked about our favorite books. Still, I had to go. But then she pointed at a chess board in her living room, and said, “I could teach you.”
So, you see it really was woman who first tempted man.
I don’t know how long I stayed, but when I left it was definitely on the nightly side of not-daytime. “I was worried sick about you!” Mom yelled when I walked in the front door. (“Sick”? Honestly, I never once saw her throw-up when I came home late.) Then I told her about Lisa. “I think she’s my girlfriend.”
Mom grinned. “Well, not until you buy her something.”
“What?”
“How about a ring?”
J.J. Newberry Was…
…the pre-curser of Walmart, the pinnacle of fashion, the most sophisticated store I could think of. After agonizing over the price, I spent all I had (35¢) on a handcrafted ring with an exquisite red gem I was pretty sure was a ruby.
Still, true love is elusive. Over time, Lisa and I drifted apart.
We lasted three days.
Adventure was calling, in the form of Jeff-and-Rory. And so I answered.
Years later, in high school, a short, platinum blonde would smile at me, and I would smile back. “Don’t you remember me?” she would ask. “I’m Lisa.” And I would be stunned. Alas, the magic of first-like would have faded.
But my love of girlkind would continue apace.
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