My Real Memoir
How, exactly, does an idealistic young romanticist lose his innocence? A little bit at a time, or, in my case, a little bit and one big bite.
My first “I love you” Marty and I might be regarded as having lost our innocence when we had sex. But while we weren’t naïve enough to believe sex and love were inseparable, we did believe they should be.
Then we broke up. Or rather Marty broke up with me. We’d gone to different colleges, met fascinating, attractive people, and moved on.
I was still a romanticist (see poem above), but a disconnected one, plus I’d seen Hair twice, and “everyone else was doing it.” And so, like a good little Borg, I assimilated the 60s ideal of free love, which 70’s “meet markets” would more accurately call casual sex.
Our Folklore & Mythology prof had stated that “everything is a myth.” Therefore, our final group projects could be about anything. And so, at my suggestion, Marc and I, and a curvy wannabe hippie named Amy, decided to make a short super-8 movie about “the myth of happy marriages.” Honestly, I didn’t believe all marriages were failures (Marc and I both had happily-married parents), but it was very in-vogue to say they were. And more to the point: I wanted to make “free love” with Amy.
So, I suggested we shoot four scenes on the dissolution of a marriage: First, Amy and I would make out in a beautiful meadow, with our (i.e. her) tops off; it turned out to be an oil field with insect-like derricks suggestively doing what oil derricks and insects do. Second, we’d be kissing as a newly-married couple. Then we’d be in bed together with our (i.e. Amy’s) tops off, arguing. And finally, I’d be alone (with my top on).
While shooting the bedroom scene, Amy suddenly went full-Marlon Brando on me, pulling back the covers and biting my butt so hard that it drew blood. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I think I do now: “free love” aside, she thought I was shamelessly using our little class project to get her clothes off. I was.
Kodak didn’t like it either. The film reels with the topless (and butt-bite) shots came back blacked-out, so we were unable to finish our movie. Amy threw in with a group doing a project on “the myth of marijuana,” which consisted of passing out joints to everyone in the 300-seat lecture hall.
Marc and I followed by playing two original songs, sans “myth” explanation (the myth that everything is a myth, maybe?), got a groovy standing-O from our classmates, and an A from a suddenly very mellow Dr. Glickman.
In late December, I learned Amy’s butt bite had contained an unexpected Christmas gift: hepatitis. I told my pen pal (letter above) that it had come from “close contact,” hinting (bragging) that I’d had casual sex. I hadn’t. But in the coming years I would more than once. After that one big bite, it seems, I began more and more…
To lose my innocence.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
I didn’t know that Kodak censored film they developed.
I didn’t either. We were surprised. I imagine they stopped doing so in the years that followed.
This post makes me smile! 😃
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Ah, STDs, the indefatigable companion of promiscuity.
Indeed, Anonymous.
Oh no, an STD! Your poem is nice, so advanced for a young man.
Thank you on behalf of young Mitch, Priscilla.
Ah, Mitch…you were a smart young man… hmm…. let’s do a film about “XYZ”…why didn’t I think of that? Well, you paid for it though with the bite. What’s that old saying? Nothing in this world is free.
I grew up in the 80s when the consequences could have been a lot worse… still didn’t stop this idiot though…but I was paranoid all of the time even though I made sure to be protected.
Wonderful post Mitch!
Thanks, Max!
My oh my, what Woodstockish behavior-and Kodak cleaned up the mud. 🙂
;>)
Your actions were the direct consequences of the Fall, Freud, and the purposeful manipulation of normal human sexual needs by the immoral atheistic scientists and communists that were taking over the colleges in the 40s and 50s. Of course, we are each responsible for our own actions. But you were definitely groomed just like the next generations were and today’s children are being groomed into deviant sexuality. The difference now is that even the church has joined the sexual revolution.
Teenage angst has produced some good poetry through the years; nice stuff from one so young.
Thanks, Phil.
* me reading this *
“… what the hell happened here??”
🤣
Cheers to youth and all it’s adventures!
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