Riding in a car with a friend back in 63. He’s driving. I’m riding shotgun. We’re both 16, hormones galore, bursting with testosterone. A hot girl our age, blonde and built, sexy as a cat in heat, was thumbing a ride. My friend gave her a lift. She hopped into the front seat and snuggled up next to me. She looked into my eyes with her beautiful blue eyes, smiled, touched my leg and called me chicken.
The message was clear, an SOS for sex. But despite my hormones galore and bursting testosterone, I wasn’t enticed, not even a little. She was drunk on her ass, fuming with alcohol, and I was repelled. Don’t get me wrong, as achingly beautiful as she was, as good as she looked, if I’d met her under sober circumstances, I would have been totally enamored. I would have felt blessed by the angels above. I would have wanted to be with her forever and ever.
Now some would say I missed an easy opportunity to savor her ample goods. But despite my 16 years of age and all the testosterone, IT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN RIGHT. To me it would have been like rape, since she was not in control of her mental faculties. And to me to have sex with a drunk or drugged out woman is criminal, unconscionable, and evil as hell.
Here’s where this true story took an unexpected twist. When we arrived at her destination and she got out of the car, she thanked me for not taking advantage of her, which blew my mind. I hadn’t expected that after all her seduction attempts. But it felt good that she was grateful for my respectful and gentlemanly treatment of her.
And that was one of the few things I did right in my wild and wasted, screwed up teenage years. And that’s why I remember it to this day.
Bob Boyd