Come On Baby, Light My Fire!

By Ms. Teri
In the ‘70s, I found myself out of college, married briefly, and divorced. It was an incredible time for women and we believed the sky was the limit. Jobs were easy to get, but equal pay was not. We had arrived and would “bring home the bacon” while we ran households, took care of others and tried to do and have it all. My ex-husband was my first sexual partner, so when the Sexual Revolution knocked on my door, I was ready to salute our newfound freedom. It was our own version of “Girl’s Gone Wild,” without the wet T-shirts, the internet or sexting. I guess it was pretty tame by today’s standards, but it was a thrilling time for me and most of the women I knew.
One day as I arrived home from my cub reporter job at the small newspaper in my hometown, I got a call from a guy I had gone to high school with. Mike was one of the “popular” guys – football player, homecoming king, smart and very cute. He was a year ahead of me in school and I figured he didn’t even know I existed.  He was in law school and wondered if I might come and see him at the University of Florida sometime. I packed my new freedom flag and headed for a weekend of sexual bliss in Gainesville. I was a kamikaze lover driving my hot wheels to a weekend of lust and passion. Mike didn’t know what hit him. I was so ready to be that new kind of woman – sexually open, unashamed, willing to tell a lover (make that DEMAND) what I wanted. This was a new and, I believed, a more exciting ME.
It scared the shit out of Mike.
Sometimes passion and new freedoms make us selfish – not that there is anything wrong with that – but I realized then that maybe choosing to sleep with someone just because you can doesn’t mean it will be wonderful, or even a little bit exciting. You just can’t make sparks fly when there is no match to light the fire. 
This flashback was inspired by the stories in BEDROOM ROULETTE: Changing Lives and Love in the ‘70s. Read it and remember if you were alive and sexually active in the ‘70s. Read it anyway even if you weren’t. You’ll learn stuff about your mom or your grandmother.

I’ve Got a Crush on You

It started at some point in the 5^th grade. I was elected class president for no apparent reason until I later found out that one of the boys in my class – Johnny -- had offered kids money to vote for me. A dime went a long way then. I was both horrified and flattered, but was determined to carry out my duties (few as they were) as class president. It was the first time anyone other than my mother had believed in me like that, and it was a powerful aphrodisiac (if only I had known the meaning of the word then).  Our love affair, which consisted of shy hellos and stolen glances, lasted through 5^th grade. By 6^th grade, my first crush had moved on to other girls, and, honestly I was a little relieved since neither of us had a clue how to be in a relationship. 

Fast forward to 9^th grade when a new boy named Steve arrived at school. I had sworn that I would never love again because it just didn’t seem that interesting, but Steve broke my resolve. He was charming and confidant and every girl in 9^th grade wanted to be his girlfriend. I found myself calling his house and hanging up (thank god caller ID didn’t exist then). One day at school – maybe the first time I had EVER worn a padded bra – Steve noticed me. Before long he was walking me home from school and asking me to go skate boarding or to a movie. I was in heaven every minute we were together, but I will never forget the day he kissed me. It was the first time anyone had ever French kissed me and I was NOT prepared. I didn’t even know what French kissing was. A few games of spin the bottle were not enough to teach me anything. I pushed Steve away in shock, not realizing that I would push Steve away for good. I was crushed and believed I would never find anyone like Steve again . . . but then came Eddie (more about him later). 

Reading the short love stories of FALLING IN LOVE. . . AGAIN, reminded me of Johnny and Steve and how we can all be blinded by a future we cannot begin to see. But it’s the not knowing, stumbling onto the unexpected, and discovering life’s delightful surprises that give us all hope. 

Read more love stories at TruLoveStories.com