I’ve never been what some might call “a player”. Except for my junior year of college, I never dated, or even considered dating, more than one or two girls at a time. Most of the time, it was just one. I found one was all I could handle.
My first girl was Beverly. She was a year older than me when I announced to Grandma and Grandpa Barner that I was going to marry her. I was three and she was four. I don’t recall the announcement, but Grandpa, AKA Poppy, reminded me of it several times over the years. I knew in my heart it would never work because she lived in Kentucky and I was in Michigan. Long distance romances seldom thrive.
We saw each other several times over the years, but whatever we had ended abruptly when I was fifteen and she was sixteen. That’s when she started dating Kenny Kitchen. He was a freshman at Bowling Green’s Western Kentucky. Whatever we had was gone forever.
During elementary school I had my eye on two Lindas and two Dianes. I never had a chance with Linda D. She was the most beautiful girl in the neighborhood. She lived a few blocks away. One of my friends, Tom, lived close by and had the chance to see Linda and her sisters sun bathing in their backyard. That must have been wonderful.
Linda B. was in my first grade class and popped in and out of my life all through school. She was another girl I thought was cute and admired from afar. She was what you might call bubbly. She was full of life and way to cute for me. During our senior year, our class took an overnight boat to Mackinac Island. Linda and I struck up a conversation and spent the entire time we had on the island together. That was something special.
Diane P. was in my life over the course of three years, fourth through sixth grade. I kissed my first non-cousin at her fifth grade birthday party during my first experience with “spin the bottle”. I locked lips with four or five girls that day. I don’t recall anything more from that party except Diane S. was there too.
Diane S. wove her way into my heart several times throughout elementary school. We met up at Wednesday after school dance classes during our fifth and sixth grade years. Diane P. seldom attended the dances, so our secret was secure. We passed notes in class, and all in all, had a secret romance that peaked with the notes. When word came that I-75 would be following the path of Stephenson Highway as it was constructed through our part of town, I learned Diane S’s house was marked for removal. Our time was limited and she moved during seventh grade.
I wrote valentine cards to the two Lindas and two Dianes. Each year, our teachers supplied each student with a list of classmates. This helped moms plan for the purchase of Valentine cards. We knew we had to have enough cards to write a card for each student. That was my mom’s rule.
Writing those cards took a lot of time. Each had to be carefully selected. I sought out pictures of cowboys, animals, and clowns for the boys. The girls were even trickier. I selected heartfelt mushy ones for the Lindas and Dianes. I had to be sure that nothing too romantic reached the other girls. If I got stuck, I opted for borderline mushy for the prettier girls, and the other girls got the leftovers. One year the wrong card got in the wrong envelope and Margaret S. thought we were about to become an item. We weren’t, and I probably broke her heart.
As I got a bit older, I opted for Valentine candies with messages. The candy makers did the composing, so all I had to do was select the right message for the right girl. Mom didn’t impose a rule about distributing the candies, so I was on my own. I was very selective. I used the candy messages in junior high, but gave up cards and candies altogether during most of my high school years.
By the time I reached college, I started to use the candies again. I didn’t actually buy them, but every so often they showed up at a party, and I used my wordsmithing skills to my advantage. Rather than give a girl a candy, I’d read her one. My recitations went something like this.
“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. If you were any cooler, you’d be twins. I hope we are together forever. xoxo”
“Roses are red. Violets are blue. Fire is hot, but not as hot as you. xoxo”
And there was the old standby. “You’re the best thing in my life. You’re perfect in every way. I can’t wait to be with you again. XO XO XO XO XO XO XO XO”
Fifty-one years ago today, I went on my first date with my current Valentine. We went to a junior high school staff party and eloped nineteen months later. We’ve exchanged cards, candy and kisses. Most importantly, we’ve raised a family of three who are raising families of their own. Each is unique and much loved. If I had a single candy to share, it might say…
“I wish I could be with each of you today. I miss seeing you, and while phone calls, texts, and the Houseparty App help fill the void, I can’t wait to hug you again.”