This, That, and the Other

I am unofficially participating in this year’s A to Z Challenge. My theme this year is girlfriends.

V is for Vicky D.

When I was in the ninth grade my “girlfriend” was Vicky. When I say she was my girlfriend that meant that we hung out together at school, would get together at her place some days after school, and if her older sister was willing to drive us, we would occasionally go to a movie on weekends. She was a very pretty girl but was a little on the chunky side and all we ever did that entire year sexually was make out. I remember a few times she let me feel her up over her blouse and bra, and one time I wanted her to touch me, so I grabbed her hand and put it between my legs, but she immediately removed it.

Anyway, after we finished ninth grade and graduated from junior high school, we lost touch. She and I went to different high schools and, well, you know how it is. I thought that I’d probably never see her again. But one night, when I was a sophomore in college, my phone rang, and when I answered it and said hello, I heard a female’s voice ask me if I was the guy in junior high school who had a thing with Vicky D.

“Vicky, is that you?” I asked and we quickly established that it was the same Vicky. She told me that I had popped into her head the other day when she was thinking back to ninth grade and was wondering how I was doing.

We talked on the phone for about an hour and she asked if she could come over to my place. I lived off-campus in a two-bedroom apartment with another guy, but told her I’d be happy to see her. We made arrangements for the coming Friday night for her to stop by and I convinced my roommate to plan to stay somewhere else that night. Just in case. I figured I was going to get laid that night. Why else after all those years would she want to come to my apartment rather than meet for coffee or for drinks or for dinner.

Friday night came around and at precisely 8 pm, there was a knock at my door. When I opened it, Vicky smiled, walked in and we hugged. She looked great. She now had long blonde hair in a Farrah Fawcett style even before the show “Charlie’s Angels” had aired its first episode. And she was most definitely no longer chunky.

I had gotten some pretzels and chips for us to snack on and beer to drink. The conversation between us seemed a bit awkward at first, but when we started reminiscing about our time in the ninth grade, we both became more relaxed.

I was in college and she was working at a doctor’s office as a medical secretary. We changed the topic of conversation from the ninth grade to what we were doing with our lives at the time and it became quickly apparent to both of us that we had very little in common and very different visions for where we saw ourselves in the future. So by close to midnight, Vicky looked at her watch and said she’d best be going.

I suggested if she was tired or had a few too many beers she was invited to spend the night. I was hoping that she might be up for some intimacy, but she thanked me for the offer, and that that it was not going to happen. And that was the last time I saw Vicky D.

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As a bonus today, I’m linking to a post I wrote a while back titled “My First Vagina.” Even though the name of the girl involved in this story didn’t start with the letter V, the word “vagina” does. If you’re at all interested my reaction to seeing a vagina for the first time, click here.

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