When I hit college the sexual revolution wasn’t anything new. Hippies and their free love had largely faded from the scene. Within a few years disco would rear it’s ugly head.
Traditional attitudes surrounding love and sex, or just sex were still very much in evidence. While I knew some people who were fully engaged in the sexual revolution many more clung to more conservative ideas. What the sexual revolution had done for my generation was make the idea of sex before marriage acceptable to many or most. We had not reached, however, the idea that it was OK to screw anyone whenever you wanted.
Love did have something to do with it. Ideas of courtship still held true. Two people would start dating and sex wouldn’t become part of the equation until later on — at least not until the fourth or fifth date anyway.
Now, my view is somewhat obscured on this. Unlike many of my classmates I didn’t drink in college. It was legal for 18-year-olds to drink beer and most people I knew did. I’d experienced alcoholism up close and I was afraid that there could be some familial tendency to the disease. It’s for that reason I decided when I was in high school not to drink until I graduated from college. That is a pledge I kept.
This eliminated visits to bars. I went on occasion but being sober surrounded by a bunch of drunks was not an enjoyable way to spend an evening. In retrospect I suppose if I had been more outgoing, more calculating, I could have had more sexual encounters by picking off girls whose reasoning had been dulled by drink.
Of course it’s said that alcohol can help drop one’s inhibitions. That could have also served me in those situations. Once I did start drinking, however, I never found that being a bit loose ever provided me with any edge.
So not going to bars kept me from that age-old form of sexual healing, the one-night-stand. Heaven knows I would have liked some.
In college my approach was the more traditional sex through love. I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by people who were perfectly willing to follow at least an outline of the traditional rules of dating.
Within a few days of arriving on campus I set my sights on a girl in my dorm. Her name was Lori. What drew me to her was strictly physical. She was a fairly quiet girl, although not shy. I guess she just didn’t have a lot to say.
This was before I had recognized that I should stay away from shy girls. I came to learn that I don’t like shy people. In both friends and lovers what I really needed was someone who would compliment me, not mirror me. I hated being shy so I did not like others who were the same. I sought outgoing people.
So what was it that drew me to Lori? Well, not to put too fine a point on it but … it was her body. She was just about the model of a beautifully proportioned girl. I’m not talking the modern anorexic model but just your perfectly formed American woman.
Lori’s only weakness was her face. Actually, to be more specific, her smile. With her mouth closed she was pretty. But when she smiled her face took on a comic look and her front teeth were too small and gappy. She did have nice, medium-length brown hair.
Standing a bit over five-feet-five-inches tall, Lori had nicely set shoulders moving down to a pair of perfect breasts. If she were a young woman today everyone would suspect fake tits. But hers were far better than anything implants could achieve. She had some beautifully balanced, firm D-cups. I don’t know how many times I dreamed about unhooking her bra.
Her breasts were just the top of that sensational hourglass figure featuring a trim waist rounding out into an excellent if not exceptional ass. Her hourglass shape was more of a modern ideal as her hips weren’t as big as those desired decades or more before.
While I knew girls with longer, shapelier legs, Lori’s certainly served her well.
So that was it. Lori had a quiet sex appeal and I wanted her.
I’ve been very forthcoming about how some of my previous attempts at dating had progressed. This episode I don’t remember so well. I think it was probably about a month into fall quarter that I started to try to get Lori interested. I tried to be casual about it all by just tagging along when a group was doing something together. That was pretty common in the dorm.
Eventually I did ask her to do something with just me … she said “no.”
I’d already started to develop this obsessive interest in her not unlike the first crush I had Joyce in junior high. If you care I write about that in “A first shot at dating.”
That obsession pushed me to continue to pursue Lori even after she rejected me. It was easy though. I was already becoming good friends with her friends, one of whom was my dear college friend Joyce who I’ve also written about. To be clear, the Joyce in high school is not the same girl as the one in college. I should have given one of them a made-up name.
It was an odd situation. I was becoming genuinely good friends with Lori’s closest circle completely independent of my desire for her. You might ask, which came first, the friendships with Lori’s friends or the desire for Lori herself. It’s almost impossible for me answer that now. I guess it was simultaneous.
To make a long story short I kept up this obsession with Lori into the next quarter. While my new college friends were exploring the freedom of unencumbered dating I trudged on, day by day, focused completely on a girl who didn’t want me.
To this day I am puzzled by my behaviour. I can’t explain it. In hindsight I’m glad I didn’t end up with Lori. I don’t think we would have been a good match in the long term. I can think back on several women who I thought had just about everything that I wanted in a woman. The first was Jerri from high school.
So while I may have approached Lori using more conventional dating mores, ultimately all I really wanted to do was suck on her magnificent breasts and have hot, heavy sex with her.
Our sophomore year we achieved a kind of truce and had something that was almost a friendship. I spent a lot of time with her other friends so it was almost impossible not to. It was enough of a friendship that we started writing each other during the summer. Oddly enough we were able to write each other 10, 12 page letters. When we returned to school in the fall, however, we couldn’t keep a conversation going to save our lives. At the least we had gained an understanding of each other.
Given that history, what happened a few weeks after we graduated was even more extraordinary. But I’ll save that story for another day.
Spring quarter freshman year something happened that very quickly broke my obsession with Lori. More on that, or should I say “her,” next time.
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