Nymphette snail mail
phreak as a kid--and a raving maniac now. But between the ages of 13 to 21, I had an exceptionally cool, normal social life.
When I got to junior high, I came out of my shell and made all sorts of girlfriends. Sometimes we'd hang together as a group; sometimes one on one at their respective houses (I didn't invite them to mine; it was too creepy).
The summer I turned sixteen, I'd been living with my aunt and uncle in Manhattan for a year, after my parents died. Once the school term ended, my aunt insisted I work as a CIT (counselor in training) at a camp in Bear Mountain, in upstate New York. I hated it--for starters, I'd just started smoking because all my best friends had, and I had to sneak out in the weeds to fuel my newfound habit. One time the senior counselor caught me, and raided my belongings looking for my stash. She didn't find it, because I'd cleverly hidden the pack in my box of tampons. Already exhibiting classic addictive behavior even as a young girl...
So I wrote letters of woe to all my friends, and in turn they sent me long letters back, along with packages containing contraband cigs. I'd just started seeing a cute new guy back home, and he wrote too (sigh). Meanwhile, it seemed like all my g/f's were keeping a running score in a mad competition to lose their virginity. (I've written in passing elsewhere about how my good friend O lost her maidenhood with my best guy friend in my aunt and uncle's king sized bed during a pot-fueled party weekend). But I was a late bloomer--didn't lose mine til I was 18, in college. What a bunch of sluts I hung with back then!
Anyway, one of my coolest, funniest friends was M. I used to love to sleep over at her house because she had the whole basement to herself instead of just a little bedroom. We used to listen to Joni Mitchell and Neil Young albums and go to art movies and just bullshit around. Her parents were very wierd--I hardly ever saw them because at about 6 pm like clockwork they would disappear for the night into their bedroom. M said she guessed they were having SEX in there every night--creepy!
In any case, M was in the same boat that summer, working as a CIT at some sucky camp in the wilds of New Jersey. The other day, I was going through my old shit, cleaning out my closet since my ex and I are selling our coop, and found a bag of old letters from that summer. This one from my friend M sums up the inimitable, sleazy innocence of that time, when we all started to discover the wonders and horrors of boys. I still get a laugh out of it.
Hi--I wish I were! Shitman--I got so much to tell ya. I'll start off with this guy I met named S (if you already know via O or J just skip the next part).
OK-- I met him during the weekend whiile the kids weren't up here yet (it was called orientation weekend--as if it makes a difference.) Well I played cards with him the first 2 nights + I really liked him (or so I thought). Then that Sunday night we were playing poker in his bunk alone--and he goes, "The next round we play for a kiss." I thought: "This is it." So I pucker (or should I say puker) up for a kiss. Two minutes later he goes (get this line) "Let's go all the way." GIVE ME A BREAK!!! So of course I said no. And in walks his friend. And there I was too stunned to move. So he says, "Let's go." And like the stupid fool I am, I went.
So guess where we went, in back of the HANDBALL courts--the fuckin buggiest place in the whole goddamn world. Christ! It was awful! I got 4 mosquito bites in my cunt! FOUR! I hated every minute of it! He was incredibly crude! He said the most absolutely nauseating things--e.g. when he was giving me the old hand job, he was off the mark by quite a bit (to say the least)--so I moved his hand to my clit + he goes (get this) "Oh, so that's where it is." The worst was (besides the mosquito bites and the shit he passes for talk) is that I had to blow him for an hour straight before he came (I kept looking at my watch). But worse yet, while I was blowing him, I dozed off 6 or 7 times. I had 13 hours sleep the night before + I wasn't even tired, but I was bored out of my mind!
Since then, I've been avoiding him like the plague. The day before yesterday, I jumped into a giant garbage can just to avoid him. It was kind of hard explaining to my kids though, why I had Fruit Loops stuck to my ass. It's so hard to avoid him! Shit! Every time I turn around, he's there making a grab for me. Actually I've become quite experienced in the art of camouflage. I've also become good at nearsightedness ("Oh gee! Golly! Gee whiz! I didn't even see you, I must get glasses one of these days!" S-I-G-H...
Welp, I've really got to get to sleep. Write soon and I'll tell you what COMES of this sordid affair. Bye for now.
P.S. Tell me what (or twott) happened with K that time at J's house.
(What happened? I gave the guy (a college guy no less--woohoo!) a handjob under his pants and he fell madly in love with me! I didn't even know how the equipment worked back then but it seemed to do the trick.)
Looking through those old letters, it's hard to believe that I was once such a normal--even popular--teen. Though I live for e-mail, there's something about snail mail that is incomparable. Right here in front of me is the envelope M sent the letter in--complete with the stupid little inside joke she wrote on the back flap. And how to describe the little watercolor logo she put on the first page depicting a little sun with red and yellow rays--with "smile you fucker" inscribed in the middle?
Last time I saw M, decades ago, she had just married a guy who was going to seminary school. She had changed--my hilarious, boisterous, outrageous friend had become very subdued, and I thought her hubby and the marriage were a bit bizarre.
Oh well, I guess she found someone who didn't have sex on the brain as much as her old flame S did. I'd just love to look her up some day and rehash old times.