Sex. Along with acting and writing—and, if I’m honest, anything else that got me noticed—sex was beginning to claim a larger and larger chunk of terrain in my brain. At first it had been a distant island, exotic and unexplored. But now that I was in junior high school it seemed more like a beckoning metropolis full of glittering domes and colorful spires.
My idea of sex was still Tammy and the Bachelor, a sweet romantic walk ending with a chaste two-second kiss. My 7th grade “girlfriend” Debbie and I held hands once during recess—end of story (see the heart-enclosed “Mitch T. + Debbie F” on the back cover of our Junior High School yearbook above). But then again, there was Marilyn Monroe. And Rory’s next-door neighbor fresh out the shower. In other words, I knew there was more, I just didn’t know what it was.
Until I met Lynn. Lynn was a short, curvy eighth-grader who was obsessed with sex. She was an aspiring romance novelist. Jeff and I were so fascinated that we gave up riding our bikes for awhile to walk home with her. As we walked, she’d read to us from her latest in-the-works steamer in which an innocent young woman would always fall for a roguish older man who showed her “the ways of love,” i.e. peeled her clothes off one-by-one.
One day, while we were walking past the recently-completed La Mirada Golf Club, Lynn decided to change into her shorts. From the ladies’ restroom she teased, “I’m taking my clothes off now.” Jeff and I looked at each other with massively enlarged pupils. “Prove it!” I teased back. “OK,” she said, “I’m coming out!” Jeff and I almost fainted. She came out wearing…bloomers! The idea that a girl was showing us her “underthings” trumped the reality that her bloomers were about as sexy as a Victorian bathing suit (unless they were on Marilynn Monroe, of course). Still, she’d “peeled her clothes off” for us!
Apart from attending her 14th birthday party, we saw Lynn less and less. I spotted her once, smoking and sipping from a paper bag with some high school guy; she didn’t acknowledge me. I feared she’d go the way of one of her lovestruck heroines, that she’d never learn to discern real love from “true love” (even then I sensed there was a difference). But who knows? I pray that in the end she found real love after all. Or at least ended up making a good living…
Writing Harlequin romances.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
Mitch Teemley 
always the romantic )
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Wow! That girl was on fire! 😂
Teenage memories are the best! 😊👍
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Bloomers! LOL!
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Right?! Bloomers cracked me right up!! 😂😂
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My Nana wore bloomers…😉
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What a great memory! That first introduction into the magical world of sex is something we never forget. Thanks for that reminder, Mitch.
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Mitch – I once heard someone (can’t remember how) refer to steamy “women’s” romances as the equivlent to pornography for men… And, i see the point. Not to be too harsh, but an undiluted diet of such ideas (images and stories) pervert real romanitic love, IMHO, and can cause signifiant damage to relationships. Best wishes! RayCarboneCarbone Productions, LLC 35 Baptist Rd., #6BCanterbury New Hampshire 03224; 603/520-6964 www.linkedin.com/in/raycarbone/
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I agree, Ray. There’s a good deal of truth in that.
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I hope Lynn turned out all right.
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Me too, Liz. I sent up a retroactive prayer for her today.
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Good.
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My thoughts exactly.
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Reading this right now after listening to our favorite reaction channel play ‘A Candle in the Wind’ and the whole conversation that generated from my thoughts on Marilyn Monroe was in that day. Uncanny!
You capture that age so well!
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Thanks, Peach!
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Hmm! I think I want to read Lynn’s memoir next now…
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Me too!
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Lynn had your number.
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Whoa… Lynn and I were identical personalities*, living only a few miles apart! But I never took up cigs and would never ignore someone I knew.
*As an adult, I spent some time trying to figure out how to be paid to read porn books. I often did it for friends. I wanted to do it at the club I frequented but even the “quiet” rooms were too loud for it.
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Whoa back, Leenda.
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Leenda, you do know the podcast, My Dad Wrote a Porn Novel? Very funny indeed.
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Lol…never heard if it! I don’t listen to podcasts but might have to look that up!
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I remember some of the kids who were hot to trot in school. The girls would roll up the waistline of their skirts to shorten them and the boys would wear tight trousers. There’s nothing left for pubescent children to imagine now!
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