Storymania - First Love by Mark A Stuart

First Love
Mark A Stuart

                   First Love

It has been many years; perhaps decades for most, since they would mark the time of what would rightfully, or wistfully in some cases, be called the moment of their first love. In my case, I have now officially reached the age where I am no longer responsible for remembering any facts, statistics, weather reports, or current events from that time. This is probably just as well. I am married now and most men in the same category as myself have by now realized the hazards of sailing too close to those shoals. The ones that have not, are no doubt working on subsequent unions still trying to figure out where they went wrong the first time around. Or the second, or the third�..
Even though I am past the age of accountability and recollection as regards the trials of youth, I can still indelibly remember those first curious and unexplained feelings that began to emanate from south of the border. These biological sensations that plague every young man at some point, were often confused with love, the whooping cough, and potential mental instability. Once a young man had the time to sort through these feelings, they invariably led to substantial feelings of unexplained guilt. This left most of us in a perpetually puzzled state as to that point in our lives we had not committed any acts, or were even knowledgeable of any acts that would proscribe guilt on this scale. Later on, when we had established precisely those actions that could (or normally should) lead to those feelings of guilt, we no longer cared. If we ever bothered to think about it, we would wonder what the initial problem was and how could we have been so immature. Guilt? What guilt? Let the good times roll. This is the stage that men enter that women often refer to as �the pig years�, from which many of us never recover. Later still in our lives, we might have the tendency to harbor feelings of pride should those unexplained sensations continue to crop up on a frequent basis. Frequently, in this case, might be taken to mean weekly. It will be interesting to see over the coming years what effect current pharmaceutical magic will have on the male psyche and our feelings.
But I digress. The advent of first love- which might more properly be termed: �first confusion with a never-ending series to follow�, or �first loss of cranial capacity�, or better yet �first recognition of man as the inferior gender�- is a time that is remarkable in its innocence, awkwardness, torment, emotional instability, and huge comedy.
Since, as I have already noted, it would be impolitic for me to comment on my first foray into the mysterious world of women, allow me to relate the story of my brother Head�s first date. He won�t mind and his wife lives far enough away to make it a major effort for her to come and smite me.
As I recall it, my brother was approaching thirteen when he first began to come under peer pressure to go on a date.
The group of boys that my brother associated with had decided amongst themselves that one of them would have to make the commitment to go on a date with a girl. This was to be an actual girl; a member of the same species that the entire group had up until this point regarded on the same level as aliens or summer school. That such a drastic decision was reached is a testament to the curious nature of pre-teen boys who had decided that they needed better intel in order to help explain those recent sensations. They knew that it was somehow related to the opposite gender but beyond that not a one of them had any concrete information on which to draw conclusions. Therefore Head was elected in absentia one day while he was at piano lessons. It was the first time that my brother had won election to an office that he did not know he was running for.
That Head was a leader of this young gang, there can be no doubt. Perhaps it was his good looks (not likely), or his razor sharp wit and keen native intelligence (less likely). It may have been that even back then this group of boys recognized my brother�s innate leadership ability (this group could not normally recognize a dog in a pound) and pegged him for duty based on that trait alone. I always suspected the group felt Head was the only one amongst them that could venture over to the dark side and return to tell about it and so I marked it down to his courage.
  Whatever the reasons, my brother was selected unanimously for that first recon raid into uncharted territory. It was to be a modern version of the twelve spies sent into Canaan to search out the land and return with a full report. Unlike his biblical counterparts though, it did not seem that this mission was to be in any way sanctioned by the Almighty.
Due to the nature of the assumed leadership role of his peers, Head saw no way to escape this nomination and so gracefully accepted the honor. It was more than a little true that he was also curious and had many unanswered questions himself.
Undeterred by lack of Divine sponsorship or the slightest clue as to what they were about, the young men tackled their task with vigor and energy and complete lack of concern that anything could go awry. Several committees were immediately formed. Mitch headed up the strategy and policy advisement team. Ralph was charged with logistics. Mr. JC Penny was brought on board as the fashion and style consultant and I (as was befitting my status as older and wizened brother) was retained on a short-term contractual basis as the head of the etiquette and ethics working group.
The selection committee however, performed most of the initial work. This committee was charged with deciding which female would be blessed with the first date. This was done as a team with all members receiving one vote. The boys all determined before getting underway that the final decision would be made based on a simple majority vote and that Head would be granted no veto power regarding the choice. Most of my brother�s political capital was expended in this area as he plied various interest groups of the clique in an attempt to make this decision come out as one he could live with in later years.
A list of all potential candidates from within a 40- mile radius was compiled and the boys set about slashing names in a frenzy that would have made Jack the Ripper proud.
First culled were those that couldn�t throw a softball or were deemed too slow in the one hundred yard dash. Then those that couldn�t bait a hook or wore overly frilly dresses to church were added. Soon any young lady that had ever been suspected of being the teacher�s pet or was continually appointed as the line leader joined the list.
The committee�s list of qualifications was exacting and lengthy so that by the time they searched for any young maidens that could properly execute a sleeper hold, only one name remained: Tiger Johnson.
You would be correct if you assumed that even in South Georgia few parents are cruel enough to name their only daughter Tiger. Felicia was her given name but Tiger was a nickname that she had earned early in life and it had stuck (I actually ran into her about 5 years ago and immediately called her �Tiger�. It was OK. She decided not to kill me on the spot). Only her mother and her teachers called her Felicia.
Tiger was at that time, the typical tomboy that you have either known or can imagine. She was pretty and freckled with a reddish-brown hair that would reflect the sunlight off of it in a most amazing way. She was mostly soft-spoken unless provoked to wrath, and was always quick to share a smile or to tell a joke. She had no known enemies and was always picked (after the guys were all selected � there were some rules that you couldn�t break at 12 or 13 if you wanted to remain in the guy�s club, which many referred to as the pre-pig club) for any sporting contest that the young lads happened to be involved in that day. She was an athlete of rare talent and played a mean third base on the little league team. She liked the things that all the guys liked and never had been spotted in a frou-frou dress. Head was generally relieved upon the conclusion of the selection process.
With the major decision having been made and the target selected, there only remained the complexities of arranging Head�s appointment with destiny. This must have been similar to the decision that had been made to make an allied landing on the shores of France during the Second World War. In retrospect, the decision to make the landing was not nearly as involved as coming to terms with how to actually go about it. Getting down to the brass tacks surely involved as much time and staff work on the boys� part as any operation undertaken in the twentieth century in South Georgia. I am certain that General Eisenhower would have been proud had he known of the effort.
There were a multitude of items to be completed on the pre-date checklist: timing, location, communications, attire, the correct selection of chocolates and flowers, opening lines � all of these seemingly simple choices held the opportunity for an unmitigated disaster if not planned for and executed correctly. The boys were keenly aware of this fact and displayed the appropriate level of seriousness in all facets of preparation. The expected intelligence windfall was to a large degree in their young hands and there would be no failure due to lack of diligence on their parts.
Things sizzled along at a breath-taking pace. Hormones dictated the frenetic tempo. These boys had an urgent need for information and they weren�t getting any younger. All the details were settled on within 6 working days (Sunday was not counted as a working day although some tricky issues were settled after Sunday school). It had been decided that the optimum timing for this signature event would occur at the final dance held annually at Camp Wausega. This was the camp that most the local kids attended for a week each summer. It was run by a joint effort of the youth ministers of the Baptist and Methodist churches and so earned the Good Housekeeping seal of approval from all moms in town. All that remained was getting Tiger to be agreeable to the whole deal. At this juncture all committees were suspended and it was left up to my brother to make the actual date � the asking her out and all. This seemed normal to everyone and all hands agreed that Head would have to be the one to ask Tiger to the dance. Head countered with the fact that the group had done such a fine job without his help so far, and so surely they could see this thing one more step down the road. Alas, his argument fell on deaf ears. These ears might have also been a tad afraid. Up to this point it had all been theory and planning. It was about to go live. D-day was close and no one seemed to want a part of that. They all felt they needed some hard intelligence and experience to back them up before they actually participated beyond the planning stages. That was, after all, the whole point of this exercise.
As it turned out it was no big deal.
Head decided to talk to Felicia the day before everyone was set to leave for camp and ask if she would consider attending the final dance with him. This would put the question being popped on Sunday; Head figured right after church. He was smart enough to know that if she said no, there would be no time for a backup plan. He figured her for a sure �nay�.
Head had been nervous ever since he had determined that he was going to be the one that actually had to ask her. I had noticed these nerves, and knowing what he was edgy about, talked to him. I informed him that it was most likely a good thing for him to do the asking as most dates I had heard of required that those involved in the date to talk to each other at some point. Asking Tiger himself would be good practice. Hello and good-bye were the bare minimum requirements, but not many people could get by with just that. Trying out a few complete sentences before the date was a sound approach in my view.
He had the good sense to agree with me and began rehearsing his approach. Some hours went into this and I had the signal honor of being the one practiced on. By the time he felt like he had an acceptable plea worked out, he had it down to about 2 and a half minutes. I don�t mind saying- it was smooth. I would have gone out with him had he used that speech on me.
The delivery did not go exactly as planned. Head blurted it out in one long question without taking a breath. It was not smooth. I am not sure it was comprehensible. This did not matter in the end. Felicia was a trooper and she told him that would be fine and that it would probably be fun. She accepted with no fanfare and waved as she left the church parking lot with her parents.
End of problem. All systems go. Head figured at this point that this whole dating deal was pretty easy and wondered what he had ever been nervous about to begin with. If dating was this easy he could do it with one hand tied behind his back. He had some mind not to tell those other goobers anything at all about the date or his newly developed and apparently flawless technique. Let those chickens figure it out for themselves. It amused him greatly that the boys were all worked up about something that was no doubt as easy as falling out of bed. Nothing to it. This date thing would be a piece of cake.
Boy was he wrong.
It started well enough. The day proved to be a beautiful and cloudless one and the heat had dissipated by the time early evening arrived. The sound check of the rigged system had come off without a hitch and Head was almost used to the discomfort that the walky-talky that was duct taped to his lower back was creating. This was Mitch�s idea. In the boys thirst for knowledge, he had suggested that 2-way communications be established between my brother and the base camp of advisers. Mitch secretly thought this might be a good way to get the play by play of the upcoming event. He was not entirely convinced that Head would deliver an un-edited account of the action. Although not in total agreement with this phase of the plan, Mitch finally convinced him that it might be a lifesaver should a situation arise that required informational assistance. Towards that end, a set of walky-talkies had been procured and the one that Head now had secured to his lower back was equipped with an ear-piece that did not look too obtrusive when he pulled his ball cap over it. If Head were required to speak to the advisers it would proved to be difficult, however, as he could not readily reach the transmit key without looking fairly silly and had flat out refused to have the send key taped down. Just what advice this advisory think-tank could provide was a matter that no one really bothered to consider.
A final check of the apparel (blue jeans, tee-shirt, and Braves ball cap) was conducted and a final rehearsal of opening statements was held. Russell Stover chocolates and a bouquet of native flora (you would probably call them weeds) in hand, Head set off in his quest for knowledge, advisers trailing in anxious pursuit.
Head and his crew entered the dining hall, where the tables had been cleared for the gala. Streamers of paper mache hung from the ceiling and someone had hung a huge disco ball from the middle of the room, which was already flinging spots of various colored light in all directions. The required punchbowl was located on a table towards the front of the room and whatever mysterious brew it contained did not appear to even be drawing flies. The chaperones for this event, two very serious and stern looking ladies from the respective churches represented, were in place and scanning the floor for any potential trouble. This was a prudent action on their part, as in their experience young members of the opposite sex when combined with roiling hormones generally lead to the kind of problems they were here to stamp out. One counselor had been appointed DJ for the evening�s soiree and he seemed to have an undying love for Barry White�s musical talents. Between brother Barry�s deep baritone and the plaintive whining of the Bee Gees, the music was in place to ensure a grand time. All the boys lined one wall and their opposites held court on the other, waiting to see who would make the first move. It was perfect.
Head, trying to live up to his appointed role as the alpha male, did not want to appear over-eager and so the waiting game began in earnest. He had caught Tiger�s eye upon entering and so she knew he was there. She seemed to snicker a little at my brother�s discomfort � not in a mean way- but more amused by the whole situation that currently had my brother trying to look cool while holding a box of rapidly melting chocolates and a handful of weeds. Time to go on the offensive.
Head strode across the room after hearing the DJ fire up �How Deep is Your Love� and approached Tiger.
�Here�s some flowers. And some chocolate. Want to dance?� Head butchered the carefully prepared opening statement with a staccato delivery under pressure. This was not exactly how the rehearsal had gone down but my brother was and still is a big believer in improvisation.
�Why thank you for asking. And for the stuff. What are those weed- looking things anyway?� Tiger was polite but still curious. Head really had no answer for her so in trying to recover the initiative he just took them from her and put them on a near-by chair.
�I�m not sure. They�re some kind of exotic flowers. Let�s just dance.�
�Well we should wait �til someone else goes out there don�t you think? Besides this song is too slow.�
This was a curve ball not anticipated in any of the planning efforts. Too slow? There was no such thing. It was like being too rich or having too many Hank Aaron rookie cards. The very thought of moving in time to �Disco Inferno� was creating deep emotional distress that was threatening to make Head key in the abort signal on the walky-talky. If Head was going to have to disco someone would pay dearly.
�Man one. Do you copy? What seems to be the hold up?� The hissing static that was Ralph sounded in Head�s left ear. Head could see no way to key the mike to generate a reply in a stealthy mode so he ignored it.
�Man one. Man one. Come in. Are you approaching first base yet? Over.�
First base? Head was still in the on-deck circle and it appeared that Donna Summer was going to have to escort him to the batters box. How had he ever agreed to this?
At this point my brother made the strategic decision to disco.
It was not pretty.
Strains of �Kung Fu Fighting� were blaring from the sound system as Head and Tiger approached the center of the dance floor. There was no competition for space so they just waded right on out in the middle and let fly. The music selection now seems appropriate as the disco form that my brother chose, closely resembled someone in an attempt to put some bad chai-lin funk on another person�s being. What followed was an extremely entertaining and goofy version of Bruce Lee combating members of the triad. In his defense I will have to admit that he almost perfectly parroted the grunts that are so heavily featured in that particular tune, getting the timing just right on each successive HHHUUUHH! Tiger was greatly amused and seemed to think that my brother had gone to the trouble to create a few new dance steps just for her. She spent most of the time during the song nimbly avoiding spin kicks and flying monkey moves.
By this time, the universally recognized all-clear signal had been telepathically sent out and others from each wall of the dining hall drifted out on the floor to attempt their own brand of Kung fu. It was high comedy that could have netted someone a fortune in video residuals should they have filmed it. It was later revealed that 3 campers had to visit the infirmary as a result of this opening insanity. �Kung Fu Fighting� was removed from the play list for successive generations of campers due to this spate of injuries.
Several more lively tunes ensued and now that the ice had been broken, there was a crowd on the floor full time. Campers would come and go in a mysterious pattern that would be a great study for chaos theory; first the floor, then the punch bowl, then back to a huddle of peers to conspire and share results, then to the bathroom, then back to the dance floor, back to a huddle � it was difficult to plot or draw any rational patterns from the youngsters movements.
Soon Barry White was renewed and Head sought this opportunity to move to first base.
�Come on Flea. Here�s one we can dance to.� Without waiting for a reply, Head grabbled Tiger�s arm and dragged her again to the middle of the floor before she could flame him out. This time they were not alone, as others� inhibitions had been lowered sufficiently to allow them to join in. Perhaps it was something in the punch that the ladies were unaware of.
It was awkward for the couple. Too close? Not close enough? Where do I put my hands? Where do I not put my hands? What do you say now? Scores of freshly polished shoes fell victim to the misplaced steps of adolescents making their first moves on a dance floor.
�Man One. Man One. This is Man Two. How copy? Do you read me? Do you read me? Over.�
God this was becoming annoying. Head tried to surreptitiously move his hand down to the power knob to shut the thing down. Slowly moving his right hand from Felicia�s shoulder and going for his own rear quarters where the walky-talky was strapped, he inadvertently brushed the backside of the Tiger with his hand. A strange surge of electrical power ran down his arm and unexplained sparks jumped from his fingers where he had made first contact. In his confusion, perhaps his hand lingered a mite too long.
�Man One! Man One! Can I confirm contact? Possible interface detected from control. Please confirm. Man One do you read? Over.� Head�s ear almost exploded from this excited racket at about the same time a stinging right cross was delivered to his jaw.
�Man down. Man down. I need back up on the floor stat. Repeat: Man down. Medivac required. Oh my God �she�s killed him. May Day! May Day! May Day!�
This was the last transmission that Head received that evening from the command post as the earpiece was knocked from his ear as he hit the floor. This was not exactly how he envisioned the evening ending. He later recalled seeing Mitch, Ralph and crew, fleeing the dining hall with shouts of �Abort! Abort!� sounding above the confusion. The disco light was splattering him in fragments of blue, green, and white in a surreal setting as he lay there in a semi-conscious state. Excited chatter broke out all around him as his fellow campers tried to cipher what had just occurred. The chaperones waved their arms like Moses and the crowd parted like the Red Sea leaving Head alone in the center of the floor with only the two dark mistresses of discipline and Tiger looking on.
�What is going on here young man? Are you causing trouble?� This was not so much a question as a statement of the obvious. It was only phrased as a question to give the two twins of the inquisition time to devise a suitable torture for my brother while he was stumbling for an answer.
Head thought of several responses but could not for the life of him come up with a nice way to tell these two harpies that he had just grabbed his dance partner�s ass.
It was an accident. Yeah. That�s the ticket. An accident. No. They wouldn�t buy that. I just swatted a Tsetse fly that was going to put Ms. Johnson to sleep. Nah. Try again. I had a seizure and experienced total loss of muscular control. I was just possessed by a demon. I was working on some moves for an upcoming porno movie I�m making. I don�t know what happened madam � one minute I was dancing and the next thing I know I�m on the floor. I think aliens have landed and are responsible.
This was where my brother found himself wishing that he had some decent advice flowing from the recently departed earpiece. Instead Tiger spoke.
�I�m so sorry ladies. It�s all my fault. I slipped and when Robin tried to catch me I reached for him while he was reaching for me and we just collided. I think I hit him while I was trying to grab for something. It is all my fault. It was just a mess. I think I might have ruined the party. I�m so sorry.�
This was delivered without batting an eye and was so convincing that the ladies didn�t know what to do. Head was left more senseless than he had been only seconds before.
�Well, if that�s all then. Perhaps you should escort the young gentlemen back to his cabin � he doesn�t look like he particularly needs to dance anymore tonight. Be off with you and mind that you don�t get lost in the dark.� The pair of oversight angels turned simultaneously on their heels and resumed their post by the punch table. What was left of the crowd milled back on to the floor, Barry resumed his classics, the disco ball still turned, and the dance continued almost as if there had been no incident.
Head was still speechless as Felecia lead him from the hall and toward his cabin. He stopped long enough to toss the walky-talky into some nearby bushes before asking Tiger, �Why did you do that?�
�Why not?� I never liked those old bags anyway. I am sorry though; I meant to hit you square in the nose. You shouldn�t surprise people like that. Makes �em jumpy. That�s how people get hurt.�
Having said that, Tiger stood up on her tip -toes and planted a small kiss on my brother�s lips. She smiled brightly and made to leave. After about three steps she turned around and said. �Thanks Robin. I had a great time. You should put some ice on that jaw. It�s going to look funny tomorrow if you don�t.� She left my brother standing there as she faded into the darkness in the direction of her cabin.
My brother was stunned. This girl was awesome. She could easily just have had him committed to the dark sister�s dungeons. Not to mention what Mom would have done if she found out. Plus she had a very nice right hand. Flea was the kind of girl that a man could really fall for. In fact he just had � literally.
Then she had kissed him and the world had changed in some way that he could not explain. Suddenly he was capable of super-human feats. He could probably fly if the situation called for it. Slaying dragons, storming beaches under fire, and leaping tall buildings with a single bound were all within his grasp at that moment. These girls will require further investigation Head thought. It seemed unfathomable that all of these things were now obtainable due to a simple kiss. Did the government know about this? He made a mental note to check on this. America would never have to lose another war.
  Head didn�t say anything else for the rest of the evening and said little at the extensive debrief he was subjected to the next day upon their return from camp.
�You gotta give us something.� Mitch was begging. It was pathetic really, Head thought to himself.
�All that time and work and all you can manage to tell us is that she has a tough right? You can do better than that. What about second base? Did you kiss her? Did you learn anything at all?�
�Well� I�ll tell you this. When it comes to girls, we don�t know nothing. There are some unexplained forces at work here.�

It�s a good thing to know what you don�t know. In the case of love, young boys (and later men of all ages), hormones, disco, the Bee-Gees, and how all of that relates to women and our curious interactions with them, we will never find most of the answers.