What were the circumstances of your first romance?

sniff

that's just...so sweet.

but...my name's not Rose.

He liked Bruce Springsteen and so did I. I was waiting for my sister to finish her piano lesson so I could take mine (his mother was my piano teacher). He had invited me to view his turtles the week before.

I heard Thunder Road playing through his bedroom door. It was my favorite Bruce Springsteen song. I knocked - but he didn't hear it. I opened the door and he was sitting there with a motorcycle helmet on his head playing the guitar part of Thunder Road lick for lick.

I laughed. I was impressed. He told me then that he was listening to Bruce because his mother had burned all his Stones albums. I asked why, and he said, 'Because she's running for the office of God - on the republican ticket of course.'

I thought - musical talent, wit - silly - okay - yeah, he's the one.

I was walking with my sister down Jarvis Street in Toronto when he came racing out of his front door toward me. He must have been waiting for us, he was so quick. He looked me deeply in the eyes and reached for my hand but my sister smacked his arm away from me, pulling me protectively towards her. "No touching!" she announced.

We were both 5 and sis was 6.

Gus that was not romance, that was a one night pounder.

That's exactly what I thought, seaglass. He had a one-night-stand and
covered it up as the most romantic experience of his life. What a dilettante!

I finally figured out who Gus is.
A romance writer, for sure.
I want a cut!! You must be rolling in the dough.

Hell if I can remember my first romance. There were so many - I was constantly surrounded by little french boys and girls.

Ooo la la. Though I remember my first dance - Eric Clapton. And his breath smelled like orange crush soda.

Wait until his "Raunchy Tales of a Rat Herder" comes out.

Sure to make the New York Times best seller list Mushypancakes.

You might be on to something, mushy. Here is a picture at gustav's
award ceremony. Fabio and gustav's publisher inaugurate a life-size statue
of gustav.

The fellow across from me at my lab table in Quant class walked with me toward the student union. He asked me out. My left contact lens went zooming toward the inner corner of my eye, inducing pain and social quagmire. (How I loved him.. he wrote me poems in chem lecture. He remains the most romantic person in my life, now just a really good memory.)


I too despaired for Gus and his post about romance. Schniff.

It was my moms bestfreinds daughter. We were up stairs playing and then I asked her if she wanted to rub our butts together, she said yes.

Oh how precious, how old were you Amigo

Only God can make a tree.

gus wrote :



i'd be more interested in knowing what happened to the books ???
did you recite some poems ???
or read her the story of THE LONE RANGER ???

Very, very young. So young I can't remember. It was the only thing I could think of I had no knowledge of anything else.

He was in the same sports club as me, and me and some friends used to go round on Wednesdays to watch them practice.
I'd look at him with dreamy eyes and he ignored me week after week.

I think I was about 14 or 15.

One night at a (teeny-) club, he stood next to me and I saw him turn around to me and open his mouth to say something.
My heart was beating like crazy and I thought: NOW! It's all going to happen now!
That moment somebody pushed me from behind and I spilled my coke all over myself.
By the time I had rebalanced and looked up, he had turned around and was walking away.

Now looking back (some 20+ years later), I can only rememer two occasions when he actually spoke to me.
On one of them, he tried to pass me to get to the storage room and said:
'Move your sauerkraut trotters out of my way!'

Quite pathetic a story, I know!

You promised to call. I waited by the phone for days. What happened? I still have your copy of "Catcher in The Rye". The one with the tobacco juice stains and the condom wrapper marking your place. And hey, the name's Rachel, not Rose.

In the parking garage before an Insane Clown Posse show in Cincinnati, I saw her huffing a can of gold spray paint. I was cooking meth in a portable lab I'd set up in the back of a beat up Dodge Ram.

She saw me approaching and said, "Is that a thimble in your pocket or are you happy to see me?"

I said, "Let's do it. And by 'it' I mean 'exchange genital secretions'."

On the way to the trash strewn banks of the Ohio not half a mile away, she told me her story. She had once been a teenage phenom, a champion figure blader (it's like figure skating, except on roller blades), before her right leg was crushed by a backhoe. For emphasis, she unscrewed her prosthetic limb. I stared into her eyes as I licked her artificial inner thigh. This seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

What made her moan with pleasure, and made me whimper in confusion, was how, after laying her down beneath a rotting black locust, among the Dos Equis bottles and Butterfinger wrappers on the riverside, I accidentally brushed the bulge between her legs.

It was no prosthetic.

Did that, or the fat seagulls mutated by radioactive waters, or the human corpse floating by faze me? A little bit. But no so much that I can help but shed a sentimental tear whenever I remember, remember, um...I forget her/his name, but what I'm saying is I cry like a little bitch whenver I think about how she/he rode me raw that fateful night in the Queen City.

26

That was pretty cute. Not so innocent now, are ya?

He sat next to me in English class. We were Sophomore's in high school and both quite militant. As militant as two fifteen year olds can be. He wore a black beret, "Free Huey" button and brogans. I, with my army fatigues, Angela Davis 'fro and black power attitude up the yingyang, fell for him hard but i was also being courted by a Senior and the prom was a huge perk so I threw the militant over for just a minute, until the Senior proved to be a flake and then, grateful that I hadn't blown it completely, I ran back into my young militants' waiting arms.
Ahhhhhh. High school romance. Thanks for the memories. I hadn't thought about that in decades.