Mr. Grayson’s Dating Dos and Don’ts

July 8, 2015

Well, back in the day, you know, the 40s, time seemed to be speeded up. Everybody—the soldier boys—getting killed in the war. And here at home we was anxious, before the Nazis took over, to have experiences.

So dating was not the thing as much as mating. And mate we did. You said you have a friend my age told you young folks didn’t do the deed back then without a license. That just ain’t true.

I remember me and this friend, we took a couple gals over to Indiana for immoral purposes. There was this lake there and some cabins. And we holed up for three days, and we sure as hell wasn’t goddamn dating. We was drinkin’—and some other shenanigans.

So on the day we was going to come home, I looked out the cabin window and there was this car that I recognized, belonged to a neighbor lady of my folks. What in thee hell was that fat old bat doin’ over Indiana way? I told them gals and my friend, no way we could leave until that neighbor lady leave. She tell my dad what I was up to, he whup me raw.

We had to spend a extra night, out of money and booze. That was a slow night.

I served in Korea. There are always enough wars to go around—mine was Korea. And I’d be hidin’ my ass in a trench and wonder who was mating up my fiancé back home. Of course, I was foolin’ around with South Korean girls—what’s good for the goose.

I dated my wife, mind. She was a good Catholic girl. Kept her legs closed ’till afterwards. Hell, she didn’t mind the hair growin’ out of my ears. If I could harvest the thick hair in my ears and from my hairy ass, I wouldn’t be bald.

I reckon bald men got higher libido. I only watch now, of course. Take more money that I got to get me a gal. The highlight of my day is when them young waitresses stand by me at my table and take my order, me looking at their uh, middles. A good middle can set up a man for a whole goddamn day.

Life at eighty-seven: Soap operas, Cardinal baseball, Spanish language TV—they got the best gals, bouncy flouncy brown gals.

That is how I see heaven: bouncy flouncy brown gals and coconut pancakes.

About Eugene Jones Baldwin

I am a writer: non-fiction, fiction, journalism (Alton Telegraph), essays (The Genehouse Chronicles) and have a website: I've published a couple dozen short stories and had eleven plays produced. Current projects: "Brother of the Stones" (available on Kindle), a book of short stories; "The Faithful Husband of the Rain, short stories"; "A Black Soldier's Letters Home, WWII,;" "There is No Color in Justice," a commentary on racism; "Ratkillers," a new play. I am an avocational archaeologist and I take parts of my collection of several thousand Indian artifacts (personal finds) to schools, nature centers, libraries etc. and talk about the 20,000 year history of The First people in Illinois. (See link to website) I'm also a playwright (eleven plays produced), musician, historian (authority on the Underground Railroad in Illinois, the Tuskegee Airmen) and teacher.
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