I was small as a kid. Really, I was a runt. I was also really shy, especially around girls. I had tried the girlfriend thing in Jr. High, but it was lame, for the pathetic Hoosierboy, having a girlfriend involved riding my bike past her house, or sending a note, and occasionally calling on the phone, when I could muster courage. Often, I would just hang up. Thank goodness there was no caller ID or star 69 in those days. Needless to say, I did not really have a girlfriend.
In the old days, the high school held a big homecoming bonfire in the gravel lot behind the tennis courts. Each class did their best to gather the most wood, and nothing in the county was safe. We loaded a pickup with pilfered railroad ties. The last remaining outhouses found their way to the top of the pile. Construction sites were raided, the neighbor's firewood disappeared. Farmers cleared trees and they graced the pile. Picnic tables were "donated" by the parks department. I remember one year where a rocking chair appeared at the top of the heap. I guess now I understand why the tradition came to an end. The wood was piled twenty or thirty feet high and the blaze could be seen for miles in the flat farm country surrounding the town. Good times.
I had a little crush on this chick (or maybe she had the crush on me) my freshman year. She was cute and was shorter than me. She had short hair, her curves were starting to form and she had small but pert little boobies. As I grow older I know she was determined to bring me out of my shyness. As was done in those days before cell phones and instant messages the rumor was floated by mutual friends; Joni likes HB, do you like her? "I dunno, she is kind cute". In the weeks before Homecoming we made uncomfortable small talk in the halls between classes, she doing the talking, me just turning red in the face. We agreed we might see each other at the bonfire.
The Homecoming bonfire was held a day or two before Homecoming. The big day arrived, I ambled over to the high school from my home a block or so away. The blaze was lit, cheers were heard. The flames were scorching hot, and everyone was forced away from the inferno. The band played the fight song, the cheerleaders did their thing, and I found myself next to the girl, standing in the dancing shadows at the fringe of the crowd. Her lips met mine, electricity coursed through my body. Her tongue shot into my mouth to mingle with mine. Hey, this was cool. Now I knew what I was missing. I squeezed her butt through her jeans, she pressed tight against me. My dick got hard (hey, I was a randy teenager). We made out for what seemed forever. A date was made for the football game on Friday. We met at the movie on Saturday, I walked to the theater, she had her mom drive her. We made out for the whole movie. She let me squeeze her tits through her shirt.
We dated through the winter. By spring, I realized she was a bitch. We broke up, and reunited regularly. By summer I was copping a feel from different girls at the pool. By the next homecoming I was picking up girls at away football games. I was still painfully shy, but I learned how the shy silent type can be attractive to certain girls. "Whoa, I thought you were the shy type" was muttered often. A few beers, a bottle of wine, a little vodka did wonders for confidence.
I saw her again, occasionally. The last time I went to her house, her parents away. She made me dinner, I took off her clothes. We did everything but finish the deed. I realized I did not like her much. I left her there, naked on her bed. She never spoke to me again. Sometimes you really piss off a person for what you do not do.