Oh man, I had always played it safe and hung
around guys I knew through friends and family. I went on a date to the beach
once with a guy I just met, but a cousin came along with another guy. I went on
a bunch of double dates and kissed a few stranger when out with friends, etc,
pretty safe stuff. Then I met the guy who would become my first real boyfriend
that I slept with and said I love you to all that stuff. (You all know him.) This was how it started...
I met him at a Black Flag gig and we made
out and felt around in the rain outside the club and he took my number. He was
in this cool band Heart Attack that I had not seen but knew about. I was sixteen and he was
year younger than me. He invited me to come to his next show and to sleep over.
I lied to my mother and said I was going to sleep over at a friend’s house.
That might have been enough or we might have had someone pretend to be my
friend’s mom on the phone to confirm things, me and my sister had done that
before. I felt guilty lying but I knew that I had to do this, really wanted to, and was not going to not do it.
He picked me up in a car in Times Square
outside some store we said we would meet at, old Times Square raging with porno
theatre’s as they were called back then. Jeez, I might as well be saying
outside burlesque joints, but as antiquated as that sounds, people were having
live sex on stage in those prime days of nyc decadence. That neighborhood was
hardcore. I am pretty sure the girl driving was this girl Betty, who years later was in the Cycle Sluts.
She was with some guy named Anthony, I think, in the front seat and my guy sat in the
back with me. Her car had something written on the bumper about an ass or a
butt, something funny, but I cannot remember what. Forgive me if I am way off
Anyway, I had on a new dark red lipstick
that was making a mess, because we were making out for most of the ride. I could
not think of a thing to say and kissing was easier than a conversation. It was
pouring rain and my hair was wet and a mess and I wore a black trenchy raincoat
and black bondage pants. He had on grey old man pants and a black rain coat
too. It was thrilling and terrifying as we drove to New Jersey to some small
club that booked hardcore and I met his band and attended my first sound check.
I never said a word to Betty. Betty and I ran in the same circles for years and rarely
talked- hardcore, then Lismar, then whatever rock clubs. It might have been decades
before she was just cool and approached me and said hi and referred to our long
silent history. She was terrific looking and had great hair like Brigitte Bardot, my
idol. I was just shy, weird, without a lot to say, and thus, anti-social.
Anyway, I watched the fast angry intensity
of this guy and his band and was thrilled to be on the inside. We went back to
his apartment, his mom’s place in Queens, and we listened to records and did
stuff in his bed. I forget what the playlist was that night, anything from UXA
to the Adolescence to Sam Cooke to Buddy Holly. (UXA, a band I have not thought
of in 30 years, with singer De De Troit, pronounce Dee Detroit, So fucking
kueewl!) I slept in my heavy eyeliner because I did not have any with me to wear
the next day and would not be caught dead with it. Somehow I got back to
Manhattan the next day in my damp clothes and my smudged face. I was tres disheveled and on my
way to the life I wanted.
The nest day my mom saw the hickies on my neck and got
really mad at me for lying. Like a typical awful teenager, a just shouted back
at her with attitude that "I DID NOT LIE, I DID SLEEP AT MY FRIEND’S HOUSE".
Nobody was going to get in my way, I knew what the fuck I was doing.
Sorry, mom. Oh man, I will have a teenage
daughter in less that a decade. God help us all. Anyway, it all worked out.
wow hearing this brings me back to the smell of his building, visceral.