Source: vocal.media.com
My Real Memoir
We’d only been on three dates. But already I had a sense that Darlene might be “the one.” Not only couldn’t I stop thinking about her, I didn’t even want to think about anyone else. I, who’d embraced “free love” as the code by which I would live, suddenly wanted only one woman. Never mind that I’d told my pen pal I desired “all of womankind,” I had a deeper yearning for a big, all-consuming love. And Darlene, it seemed, might be it.
It was a weeknight, and I had class the next morning, so I was just drifting off when my phone hollered from the kitchen. Darlene?
No.
It was Maggie McCluskey, the girl who, the last time I saw her, had given me a homemade St. Patrick’s Day card celebrating the special (i.e. imaginary) connection we shared. “I didn’t know who else to call,” she said (and so she’d called a guy she barely even knew?). “I took this prescription drug and I’m freaking out. Could you come over and calm me down. Please?”
The moment she opened the door to her tiny studio apartment, I noticed her diaphanous nightgown. I’d never really been interested in Maggie McCluskey, but had detected her (as Bogey might call them) shapely gams. “Oh, thank you, Mitch!” she said as she threw her quivering body against mine. I stood there holding her as she told me about the “weird feeling” she’d gotten from a drug for some sort of rash. And then she showed me the rash—way up on her thigh. Was this a set-up? Maybe. Probably. Still, if she really was emotionally fragile…
She made a quick trip to the bathroom, without shutting the door, so I could hear her, and, I suspected, so I could see the origin point of those gams. Then she walked over to her bed, patted it, and said, “I’m still kinda shaky. Would you just hold me until I fall asleep?” Then she pulled off her nightgown, pushed me back into a prone position, and curled up beside me.
After a few minutes, she said, tugging at my jeans, “These are so rough.” And before I knew it, I was the target of a full-frontal assault. “No,” I said several times, “I don’t want to…” But my body betrayed me, so Maggie pressed on, undaunted by my refusal to kiss or even touch her.
I felt like I was cheating on my not-yet-a-girlfriend, and was ashamed of planning the pathetic excuse that I hadn’t willingly “participated” in this seduction. I finally pushed Maggie off, apologized, and left.
Two nights later, during a quick dinner between play rehearsals, and despite her utilitarian hair-bun, shapeless sweats, and sourish breath, I told Darlene I’d fallen for her. She smiled, and said, “Me too.” We held hands at rehearsal, and instantly became “Darlene and Mitch.” Maggie and I never made eye contact again. So my involuntary infidelity remained known only to her…
And to me.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
Arrgghh! Awkward with a capital “A”! Lol!
You could certainly call it that.
So the devil didn’t make you do it!
Interesting story. 😊
Seems like you had to beat them off with a stick. I never had that problem.
;>) Hardly. It was the first and only time I’ve ever been seduced, Bob.
Poor Maggie. 😂
Hey all. Just to be clear: although I’ve treated this incident somewhat lightly, “Maggie” (not her real name) forced herself on me, and I’m hoping she never did that to anyone again. Yes, I could have overpowered her, but I didn’t want to hurt her (physically or emotionally).
This is a sad account of an insecure girl seeking any kind of love-except that it isn’t love.
Very true, Nancy. I’ve always wondered what happened to her, and pray for her from time to time.
. . . and now, the world.
This is so sad. I’ve witnessed a number of lonely people using similar high-pressure tactics. It’s not that they are evil; their amateurish efforts betray the (good) likelihood that they are not skilled deceivers.
They are simply, deeply lonely.
Unfortunately, even we young men who are not predators, eager to devour them in their vulnerability, are ill-equipped to offer them the help and encouragement they truly need.
Sadly true, Rob.
Glad she didn’t give you her rash in the process.
Oh my! Interesting! Glad you stuck with the other girl, and not the desperate one. 🙂
Me too. And good to meet you, Shel.
Thanks! Same to you! 🙂
Teen angst and love. But, it was great being young.
Pretty raw and honest, I’d say!
I’m so glad you were able to get out of that one, and perhaps it taught her that “no” really does mean “no.” It’s amazing how many people don’t want to believe that, both male and female. Thanks for your honesty here!
And thanks for your grace, Ann.
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