We were cruising Main Street. Just like we would have years ago when we were teenagers. Looking for action; seeing who else is out. It's
"I guess I was into the 'alternateens' and punker chicks from other towns." I replied with a smile,"But I wanted the cheerleader when I was at home. That is the ‘someone’ you were referring to right, the cheerleader?" I smiled some more. "Give me a break, I was the basketball player."
She laughed. And turned up the Slade on the stereo.
Her hair was blonde now with a few streaks of black. It used to be all black back when she wore a 7 Seconds sweatshirt and read Spin Magazine in study hall. She was still somewhat hip. Hip for this town anyway. If 'hip' is even the proper word. By the looks of things, she didn't know that girls don't wear flair-leg jeans anymore. Or at least they shouldn't. I didn't say anything because my penis was pretending she had skinny jeans on. Her collarless faded CBGB shirt hung off one shoulder to reveal a red bra strap. I wondered if she had ever been to CBGB.
"First time?" I asked. "Does that mean there have been other times?"
She laughed. And turned up the Slade on the stereo a little more.
"Clothes mostly. A towel, condoms, some weed; things I need if I don't go home."
"Does that mean you don't want to go home tonight?" I asked, perhaps a bit too suggestively.
She laughed. And turned off the Slade on the stereo.
"I know it's late." She said. "But I don't want to go home."
My penis was excited about this.
"But here's the deal." She continued, "I'm not the cheerleader and you're not the basketball player."
"No, you were the basketball player." She continued.
My penis was not excited about this.
I interrupted, "But I don't want the cheerleader."
She continued "And you were always running away from girls like me, anyway."
She dropped me off at my car and gave me a punch on the arm. I could hear her laughing as she pulled away. And she turned up the Slade on the stereo.
My penis was sad.