More Dancing

In reading over yesterday’s entry, I was struck by two facts. The first was how shamelessly we used the guys to get dates to dances or any other big party going on. I’m embarrassed about my actions, but it was the way things were in the fifties. Every girl I knew did the same. I daresay the boys did a little using also.

The second thing I noticed is how trusting I was about going out with a virtual stranger. When the genius was getting his Master’s degree in engineering, we used to laugh over a fictional character in the student newspaper: Letch Feeley. That guy I so readily accepted a date with could have been a Letch Feeley for all I knew. But trusting boys was what we girls did, another sign of the times.

But back to the dances. My sisters and I certainly enjoyed the great all night affairs which these parties were. After the dance, which as a rule ended at either 1:00 or 2:00, depending on the time of year, we would all go home – but not to sleep. We changed into comfortable clothes, usually jeans, and drove out the highway to Mrs. Brown’s, a restaurant where we had breakfast. And yes, there was more dancing to a combo we had hired. It was not out of the ordinary for us to stay out until 5:00 or 6:00 in the morning. Our parents worried, I’m sure, but not about drugs or alcohol back then. They were more concerned about fast or sleepy drivers.

Sometimes we would come home, fall into the bed, and sleep until 1:00 or 2:00 and then get up and do the same the next night. I remember BJ doing that three nights in a row once during the Christmas holidays.

After one such night, we had all slept late, but amazingly, I was up before BJ. One of her friends called her and when I answered, she began telling me all about her date of the night before. She was somewhat plain looking and hadn’t gone out very much with boys, and it had been her first date with this guy. She was a senior and I was a measly freshman, so I was surprised at her friendliness until it dawned on me that she thought I was BJ!! I was too far into the conversation to stop her and she began asking me for advice.

“We have another date tonight,” she said excitedly. “Do you think I should let him kiss me if he tries?” So that little fourteen year old with all her “wisdom” said, “Well, I think it would be all right if you really like him.” I was aware that most of us girls usually had a third date rule, so I took a big chance telling her that. I’m happy to report that that couple eventually married and were still in that blissful state the last time I heard. I had to do some fast talking to BJ when she awoke and tell her exactly what had transpired.

Those were wonderful years, albeit there were problems, of course. But when I look at the teenage and school situations today, I long for those sane, happy times where all we had to worry about was what to wear and whether the dreamboat would ask us out.