In the era in which I grew up, most high schools had an annual “Sadie Hawkins” day dance.  Yours too?   This was the one dance in the school year in which the GIRL asked the BOY for the date.   A recipe for mayhem and merriment all wrapped in one. These days, of course, I think anyone asks anyone else out.  All good.   Back then it was different.

The dance was named after a character and event in the comic strip Lil’ Abner, which was about a bunch of hillbillies living in a fictional town called Dogpatch.

So my Senior year in High School, and I’m sitting at home one evening and the phone rings.  The one phone (most all of us ONLY had one phone) that sat on the little built-in shelf in the hallway. So that when you stand there and talk, everyone else in the house can hear.   I picked it up, and after just a moment’s hesitation, heard a voice on the other end of the line.  A GIRL’S voice.

“Hello, is this John?”
“Yes”
“Hi John, this is  ——“  (her name is redacted to protect the innocent).
“Hi.”
“I was wondering if you don’t already have a date, would you go to Sadie Hawkins with me?”
“Uh….. sure!  Sounds like fun.”

I hung up the phone and thought … “Whoa.  What just happened?”

Now…. This was not a girl I had ever thought of dating.  Not because there was anything “wrong” with her.  Truthfully, it was probably because there was something wrong with me!   I was too blind to see what a terrific person she was.   We had a number of classes together, and I knew she was smart ….. even VERY smart.  She was cute.  And although she was mighty quiet, I knew from being in a group with her and hearing her laugh that she had a great sense of humor.   So … even though I probably SHOULD have noticed her in that way, I just simply hadn’t.   I had my eye on someone else.  You know, high school.

So on the big night, we doubled with her best friend (who happened to be a very, very good friend of mine) and HER date.   The four of us, decked out in our finest overalls, ragged flannels, rope belts, bandanas, work boots, etc….  (Hillbillies, remember?).  We joined the crowd of other similarly dressed teenagers at the National Guard Armory next to the school.   The big floor at “The Armory” was the scene of the many of our dances.

There was the usual live band, playing the radio hits of the day, and together we entered the throng on the floor and jumped and swayed, writhed and wiggled our way through the songs, pretending that we knew how to “dance”.   It was all just a pretense to wait for the (too seldom played) “slow song”.    With the playing of the “slow song”, you had license to wrap your arms around each other and sway in place to the music.  Turning in circles whilst swaying was also encouraged.  You know…. “dancing”.

Part of the annual ritual of Sadie Hawkins, was the appearance of “Marryin’ Sam” (also lifted from the comics).    An itinerant preacher …. Or possibly Justice of the Peace …. Who could, (for a small donation to charity), assist any of the young couples who just HAD to seize the moment to “get hitched”.    Tbe “marriage” was entirely legal and binding ….. for the duration of the dance anyway.

When in Rome…..

So this very sweet young lady and I joined the line to have Marryin’ Sam  (aka Mr. Green….. Coach Green … one of our teachers, who EVERYONE called “Bucky”), all decked out in his finest hitching attire, perform the deed.

When it was our turn, Bucky said the obligatory words… “Do you take this woman……”   and “Do you take this man …..”

We said our “I do’s”.

Bucky said, “I now pronounce you man and wife”.

Then….. something completely unforeseen by me …… Marryin’ Sam gave a little hand-wave of a gesture that clearly meant: “You may now kiss the bride”.   Or whatever it is that you are going to do.

It was the mid 70’s.  We were kids.  This was high school.   Awkward, socially inept, clumsy while trying to look cool High School.

I’d been on dates before.  I was not a stranger to dating norms.  I knew that kissing is not a big deal.  But on the other hand, I ALSO knew that it was not an INSIGNIFICANT deal either.   A kiss means something.  At least, it did back then.  To me anyway.  And probably to her too.

There are girls who kiss on the first date.   There are girls who do NOT kiss on the first date.  Nothing wrong with either stance.  But in the moment, full of indecision and teen angst, and the desire to not be a dork, this seemed like a pivotal moment in time…… what to do?

Had I THOUGHT about it, I would have known beyond any doubt that my fabulous date was NOT a “kiss on the first date” kind of girl.  Not by any measure.

And yet here we were.

A more experienced me, a cooler, much more suave me, a “wish I knew then what I know now” me would have simply taken her and given her a warm hug … maybe a hint of peck on the cheek …. Taken her by the hand and said, “Come on Mrs. Shouse, let’s go dance!”     And who knows what might have ensued from there?   We may have become even closer friends.  Lifelong friends.

But Bucky had gestured, and there we were.

I leaned in to give her an antiseptic and relatively chaste buss on the lips.    There was a look in her eyes.  Not exactly terror, but certainly not enthusiasm.  Let’s call it her own version of WTF??   Even well over four decades later, I can see that look.  I know (now) that the same sorts of thoughts that had raced through MY mind in the last few milliseconds had likely also raced through hers.  What to do??

As I got closer to my target, she apparently decided (possibly in a panic) at the very last moment to turn her head quickly to the side.  Because such behavior ….. this “kiss”, even in this cartoon “ceremony”….. amounted to kissing on the first date, which was unacceptable.

So rather than her lips, I landed somewhere in the vicinity of her ear.

Ok …. Actually, it WAS her ear.

So I kissed her ear.

I kissed her ear.  Not exactly passionately.   But perhaps not as antiseptic and chaste as I had hoped, either.  Let’s call it a 6 on a scale of 10.   If “1” is how you would kiss your grandma because you HAD to, and if “10” is one of those life altering, foundation shaking, toe-curling, I-think-I’m-going-to-pass-out kisses that take a full minute or more to recover from ….. this was a solid 6. A warm kiss.  A slightly … um…. WET kiss.

I have to admit, I’ve been an ear man ever since.

We walked back to the dance floor in silence.  An awkward, somewhat stunned, silence.

Shortly, she excused herself to go to the bathroom with the other girl, my good friend with whom we had doubled.   I can just imagine their conversation in there.   My date, still in shock.  My friend, aghast.    “And then, OH MY GOD, and I’m not even kidding, he kissed my EAR!!”   “He WHAT???”   When they came out, I think they were both looking at me just a little funny.

The rest of the night was fun.  More dancing, punch, a couple more “grip and sway” slow dances.   But I seem to remember it ended rather quickly after the dance.  No extended hanging out, no telling stories and laughing, no going to “the Hut” for pizza, no cruising the square.   No slow drives on dark country roads with music playing and wondering if the moment was “right” for whatever.

And, well, the marriage didn’t last anyway.

Of course, she and I saw each other a lot the rest of our senior year of high school. She even went to college at Mizzou, same as me, and I saw her on campus a lot.  We probably even had some classes together there, having similar majors.   We always exchanged a pleasant word, but I always had the feeling that somewhere deep inside, she was thinking …. “There’s the guy who kissed my ear.”

Here we are in 2017, I’m going on 60 years old, and I awoke this morning thinking about that night and that date, and that awkward kiss on the ear.    Don’t know why.  It just sorta spilled into my consciousness.

In this day of social media and enhanced connectedness, I know that “Marryin’ Sam” …. Bucky….. very well might read this.  If so, Buck, I will just say, “No worries, man.  It all worked out fine.”

My short-lived “bride” might even read this.   If so, I just want to say this:   I wish I’d been a better date.  I really do.  I had fun that night, and I’m glad you asked me.  It was high school, it was a very weird time for all of us.  I wish I wasn’t so awkward.  I wish we’d been closer friends. I’m sure I missed out on a whole lot by not taking time to get to know you better.  I truly mean that.

If I see you at a future class reunion, I may give you that peck on the cheek.

But I promise to steer clear of your ear.

Love,
John