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I don't know if it was because my friends were more aggressive than I had been in trying to get her phone number, or the fact that I hung back and allowed them to make fools of themselves, or maybe I just more appealed to her, but she lingered closer to me. Smiling and making eye contact, and making some light and pleasant conversation, she showed more interest in me than in them.

I was a good looking boy back then. Everyone said that I looked like Ricky Nelson. Eventually my friends tired of being rejected by her and found another victim to chase after, which is what we did most of our free time, picking up girls. Actually, with all of us being so immaturely obnoxious, we annoyed them, until they gave us their phone numbers, which in most cases turned out to be phony phone numbers.

Kathy and I walked and talked for miles and a couple of hours. Then, when I volunteered to walk her home, she gave me her phone number. Fearing rejection, I remember it took me a monumental amount of courage but I asked her out.

She said she babysat for her neighbors on the weekends and I figured, instead of saying that she had to wash her hair, it was just an excuse not to go out with me. She said that her neighbors went out every Saturday night. She said she babysat for them because she needed the money for school. She was heading off to college in September.

I remember now, back then, we didn't go out much on Sundays. Back then, nothing was open. Everything was closed, bars, stores, shops, restaurants. It was dead. Even the movies and bowling alleys were closed on Sundays. About the only thing open was church. It was a time that everyone stayed home, ate Sunday supper together, and visited with family and/or the neighbors. A time before cable TV and DVD's, we watched movies on one of the three channels we had on our black and white television.

I called her that night and the next few nights following. We had made a connection, albeit a telephone connection. A time before cell phones, the Internet, and caller ID, even answering machines, I was relegated to hanging around my house waiting for her to return my calls. It seemed that every time I called her there was no answer. We seemed to always just miss one another. It was frustrating.

By the time I finally got her on the line, I was excited. It was an excitement that I had never experienced before, maybe because our connection wasn't instant and immediate but delayed by the lack of technology. By the time I finally talked with her, the sexual frustration that I felt that turned to delayed gratification was allowed to simmer longer, before heating to a boil, especially when I thought about kissing her and fondling her big tits.

She was a nice girl from a nice family. Her father was an engineer or a scientist, something that required that he needed a college education. He may have worked for General Electric, I don't remember. I do know that her family had much more money than my family did with my Dad being a Postal worker, a mailman.

Nonetheless, she invited me over that Saturday to babysit with her. I remember it was so long ago, a time before jeans and sneakers were popular. No Reeboks, Nikes, or Adidas sneakers, just white PF Flyers were the only sneakers that I remember kids my age wearing.

When I went to where she was babysitting, I wore a dress shirt with dress pants and black pointy toed shoes with Cuban heels. I'm dating myself. Now that I remember, we dressed better then. Now, everyone wears sweatshirts or tee shirts with jeans and sneakers.

It doesn't matter if people go on a plane or appear on the Price Is Right, they all wear jeans with sweatshirts or tee shirts and sneakers.

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