My First Date

Who remembers their first date?  The late ‘60s were a bit of a blur to me, but I do recall a few particulars. I think mine was with a handsome man named Bob, who worked at the Moska Cliff on Ventura Blvd. near the Kirkwood Bowling Alley. 

Bob was tall, dark and handsome, with that European flair that I’ve always found so appealing. I don’t recall how I met him, but I’m sure we had a few classes at North Hollywood High. The fact that he had a car was a real selling point, as we could get beyond the Studio City Theater to explore a wider terrain.

Of course we went to the drive-in. Who didn’t? I remember leaning over for a kiss as we were exiting the parking lot, and Bob hadn’t depressed the brakes very well, and we bumped into the car in front of us.  No big deal, but it was an unwanted case of kisses-interruptus, and a reminder to keep your eye on the traffic ahead.

Bob had quite a heavy head of hair, and although he was always close-shaven, I would still get that beard burn if we had spent too much time together. You know, that raspberry blotch on the side of your face, which made you look like you’d just scraped the sidewalk falling off your bike.  No fun, but that’s the price for being with a hairy fellow in high school.

I don’t recall how long we dated. I remember seeing other guys in high school. Some of them were fascinating and others were like having to read a boring science book. I don’t recall “breaking up,” but I’m sure there was some of that drama along the way. 

But I’ll always remember Bob, and my introduction into that adolescent rite of passage.

What dates do you remember?