When I started college at Ohio State, I was living in an apartment with two of my older brothers. My third year of college, I had to move into the dorms. When I moved, I had more social opportunities with women. So, I would ask a girl out on a Friday or Saturday, to one of the High Street clubs for some beer and dancing.
More often than not, when I was dancing with my date, a snot-nosed frat boy would try to dive between me and my partner to steal her away from me. To the credit of the woman, she would then jump to a position where I was between her and the frat guy. One snot-nose, when he saw jumping between us wasn’t working, thought he could rock with her from the side, so she would dance with both of us. Susan, my date, was having none of this and just kept me between the frat boy and herself. He gave up when this happened and I heard a group of his friends laughing at him.
Just think about how rude and arrogant somebody has to be to steal a date on the actual dance floor. Now I was 68 inches (1.73 m) and weighed about 130 lbs (60 kg). I was gaunt and am a freckled redhead, but the sheer nerve of some people is surprising.
Now when I was 38 years old, I was working on a paving project in a small town in southwestern Colorado called Norwood. Norwood has the county fairgrounds for San Miguel County. One Saturday, San Miguel county held horse races at the stadium. I was betting on some horses, but not doing well. Well, unlucky with gambling, lucky with women. Norwood is about 30 miles (ca. 48 km) west of Telluride. I met a dark haired woman named Kendra from Telluride. We were talking and flirting, just enjoying ourselves. I wasn’t planning on anything like this happening; I was wearing a Flash t-shirt, just a scarlet top with the white circle with a lightning bolt through the circle.
Kendra and I were having a wonderful time when she told me how she had been riding horses her entire life. She mentioned how she had a pair of chaps and how she appeared good-looking in the chaps. Her next statement was how she looked even better when she wore nothing but the chaps.
I know this may sound mercenary, but I was considering my conversations with Kendra as a job interview. Let’s be honest gentlemen, if you have an attractive woman hitting on you, unless you have a good reason to express “no” to her, like you are married, or have a committed girlfriend, or you are gay (and even that may not be a game breaker), or you have religious beliefs that prohibit you, or one of many other reasons, you are most likely going to say yes. I knew my next remark wouldn’t close the opportunity for me but, the wrong word could stop the deal in its tracks.
I looked at Kendra, made a bit of a show of looking at her up and down. My reply was, “If you had a bra top and a cowboy hat that matched, that would look sexy.”
Kendra smiled and giggled.
After the races we went to a restaurant in Norwood and had some dinner and drinks. After eating, a live band started playing, and we stayed to dance. I had to use the restroom. When I returned, I saw some shot-nosed frat boy was dancing with Kendra. He was picking her up and dipping her, working hard to steal her. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
My landlord and a few cowboy types were telling me I shouldn’t let the snot-nosed frat boy dance with my date like that. I replied that I couldn’t get possessive of her because we had just met that day.
The next song started and Kendra and I danced. The band began playing a country version of Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me”. I sang the song to her. The next several songs were slow, and we started kissing. When we left the restaurant Kendra asked me to drive because she had had a little too much to drink. I drove her Toyota SUV, through San Miguel Canyon, at night, while Shania Twain’s “Party for Two” was blasting on the stereo. I was driving through my project and I knew the road well.
Kendra and I went to her condo in Telluride, and we had a great night.
But 20 years had passed, and I still had some snot-nosed pretty boy try to steal my date.
