It would have been good to know that Lisa had a broken leg BEFORE I called her, although it only would have delayed the date, not eliminate it. She told me about it during our initial conversation, which is when I asked her for said date. I had never formally met Lisa, only seen her around her High School in Oxford, Ohio (which was not the same as my own) when I was there visiting my friend Chris. What I did know was that she was cute and well-built and, according to Chris, promiscuous, at least by reputation. Chris had been kind enough to say some complimentary things about me and to set up the introductory phone call so that Lisa was not taken by surprise. I, on the other hand, while not surprised felt barely able to speak, so much so that Chris felt compelled to stand beside me during the call, acting as a quasi-Cyrano to my halting Christian. For her part, Lisa seemed relaxed and inclined to accept the invitation, but demurred until she determined the reality of her casted leg sunk in. I assured her that it was not a problem for me if it was not a problem for her and we proceeded to set a pick up time for the upcoming Friday evening. The machine had been set in motion.
The time between the phone call and date night passed in a flurry of cold sweats, masturbation and a general inability to concentrate on anything other than the possibility there was, according to Chris, a very real chance I would finally lose my virginity under Lisa’s tutelage. I was almost 17 by then and, if others in my peer group were to be believed, I was in a club whose membership was shrinking by the day. It wasn’t that I hadn’t dated. I had on and off since the 9th grade. I had not managed, however, to end any of them with more than partial nudity and a raging case of blue balls. Had my time finally arrived? Was I finally to cross the Rubicon into the Great, Sweaty Unknown with a real, human girl? And, if so, would the two year old condom in my wallet operate to manufacturer’s specifications? I decided to buy more (a harrowing act in its own right) just in case mine had exceeded its useful life span. Better safe than sorry.
It was twilight when I arrive at her house and, like any gentleman would, walked up and knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. I expected to be greeted by her father, but he was hiding somewhere in the bowels of their house, apparently not too interested in the gentleman caller there to court his daughter. Instead I was greeted by Lisa and her mother, chatting only briefly with the latter, her sole purpose seemingly to assist her gimpy daughter over the threshold and out the front door and close it before we made it down the one step to the walkway. Despite the full leg cast, Lisa looked more than presentable and had managed to hide the fact her pants had only one leg by tucking the material from the shorn pant into her cast. Needless to say, I was impressed. In addition to the presto-chango optical illusion she had created with her pants, she looked sharp and trim in a white gym shoe and short-sleeved button-down covered with a light jacket worn in defense of a chilly evening. We conversed as I helped her hobble to the car. Joking about her broken leg, which had occurred during a sporting event, Lisa seemed smart and self-deprecating and, unfortunately, not at all slutty, at least not in the conventional, movie-about-a-drug-addled-prostitute sense of the word. Still a virgin, I was prepared for any eventuality. Having suffered through a few years of rejection and humiliation, what was one more night?
After performing a series of deft seat adjustments made to accommodate Lisa’s inability to bend her peg leg, we were on our way. Exiting her driveway, it occurred to me that beyond the time and date of my arrival we had not made any definite plans for the evening.
“So, would you like to get something to eat? Maybe see a move after?” Although inexperienced, I felt instinctively it was too early in the date for me to broach the topic of sex.
“Maybe later, if that’s ok. I had a snack a couple hours ago. Would you like to go park instead?” Apparently it wasn’t too early for her.
I could feel my tongue, amongst other body parts, begin to thicken. I knew I had to answer before I lost the ability to speak, or lose consciousness altogether.
“Um, yes…that….sounds…good…” I didn’t hear the words so much as feel them being pushed out of my mouth.
“Great! Take a right on the next street.” She reiterated her instruction with a wave of her hand.
Silently I was thanking God for what was already happening and what I hoped would happen in the very near future. Lisa’s decisiveness and take charge demeanor allowed me to relax (somewhat) and give myself over to her.
“Pull over here.” She said. We were on a wooded side street somewhere outside of Oxford city limits. She reclined her seat as far as it would go, which was nearly parallel to the back seat. “Do you think we can both fit on my seat?”
What happened next was a blur of heavy breathing, skinned knees, a cast resting on the dashboard, searching followed by an assist and, finally, release, lasting what seemed a life time but in reality no longer than four to seven minutes at best. I was pleased to not finish before we had coupled, however she seemed a tad disappointed.
“Do you want to get some pizza or something?” She asked after we were nearly fully clothed again.
“That sounds great.” I didn’t ask how she got her appetite back so quickly. Hell, if I hadn’t just lost my virginity I might have been sullen, but my poor performance was secondary to the fact that I had just lost my virginity. And I WAS hungry, after all.
We went for pizza and although I was sure everyone in the restaurant knew we just had sex I was able to converse normally and have a nice dinner. Lisa was, indeed, an interesting and attractive individual. And, in the tremendous bright-side category, she gave me a second chance after dinner. No longer a virgin, the second time was already more relaxed and fun, and I think Lisa might have gotten some enjoyment from it as well. At least I hope so. I wasn’t brave enough to ask.
While Lisa and I never formally “dated,” we did see each other somewhat regularly over the next four years. During our high school years she would call me if her parents were out of town and invite me over. I would rarely say no. Indeed, I never said no. I learned a great deal from Lisa. She would discover something new from a friend or a magazine and ask me to try it with her. Dirty somethings. I almost always complied. Almost. She was beautiful and aggressive and I was a teenage boy. I didn’t stand a chance.
My last time with Lisa I was 20 and home on leave. She was a student at Miami. We had dinner, like old times, and experimented, like old times. I learned three new things that night. She and I lost track of each other after that. There was no social media then so finding someone could take some detective work. A couple years later Chris told me she got married and had a child or two and although I had a real desire to see her again I felt no good could come of me inserting myself back into her life at that point. To this day I think of Lisa often and with much fondness. I owe her a lot. She was bold. She wasn’t afraid to tell me what she wanted and to let me do the same. Looking back, it’s also possible she was just a tad unhinged, although I’m no psychologist. Would that we were all just a tad unhinged.