Unkissed

This tale belongs to the chapter in my life titled why can't I ever have a normal date?

I was home for the holidays… must have been my second year in college, 1968… and I was hanging out with high school friends. At Thanksgiving, Kathy W had fixed me up with one of her friends, Phil. He was short but went to Johns Hopkins and was very funny. On that first date we went to a hockey game and his car was blocking someone who huffed and puffed: you stupid idiot! Phil got out of the car, pulled himself to full Woody Allen height and said: I'm not an idiot! I challenge you to a spelling bee!

So there we were. It was the holidays and Kathy W decided to have a New Year's Eve party. We coupled up (including Phil and me) for a bash in Kathy W's basement family room. The only single person present was Phil's brother, a seminarian.

Midnight rolled around. Noise got made. Lights got switched off. Kissing occurred.

I was sitting on the basement steps with Phil. We sat. He made no move to sidle up to me, much less kiss. And so we sat, silent, staring into the darkness, listening to the romantic sighs. A chill paralyzed me. Was I that ugly, that undesirable not to merit a token peck on the cheek or a friendly slap on the back? Were the others noticing?

I wanted to disappear. I was far too shy and now too humiliated to make a move on my own or to say a word. Then we were in the kitchen talking with his brother and Kathy W's parents. I don't remember how we got there from the steps.

That night was the last time I saw Phil, but I got a long chatty letter from him after the new semester started. He said nothing about that night but did make a sophisticated-college-boy jab at "the American system of dating." I'll say. The American system of dating existed in a country that wouldn't accept my passport. It didn't cross my mind till years later that Phil might be gay.

12.6.99