I wrote about her before, in the post about going to visit The Chairman’s family, when
she and her sister were wee. It doesn't matter how grown up these girls get, my first image will always be of the
little pixies I first encountered.
The “Gar-girls,” as their daddy called them.
Even though the redhead is a proud mother of two and the
blonde one is an 18-year old high school senior, they’ll forever be my
babies. They always had a way of
getting me to do whatever they wanted, so last night was no exception when Little
Red asked me to review her papers for a night school class.
It wasn't really a stretch… I’d offered my writing help
before, so I was honored to be asked.
Plus, I thought, can you really turn down a little red-haired girl? I know I can’t.
After we discussed some of the details, (which included my
telling her to button up because I wasn't going to go easy on her), the thought
occurred to me that I should probably do a post about redheads. I've had the subject on my mental To-Do List
for ages, and this seemed to be a good jumping off point.
I never sought to
collect a series of redheads in my life, but damned if they aren’t strewn about
my past (and present). They were there
even before my redheaded buddy produced his redheaded daughter…
Redheads make up 2% of the American population, yet they
represent 16.66% of my sex partners.
(No, Rik, I didn't have to consult a spreadsheet… just the list I made
in your driveway 2 summers ago.)
It’s not like I slept with all the redheads I’ve dated; on
the contrary, it’s only been a couple.
But the numbers don’t lie. My
percentage is way over a representative amount.
The first redhead who shook me up was a girl at my high
school. She didn’t have the classic
orange-red hair; hers was a deep, rich auburn.
God, she was gorgeous. Believe
me, if I were to scan her picture out of our senior yearbook and post it, you’d
know why she knocked me for a loop.
Chick was smokin’…
In chemistry class, she and her lab partner worked with me
and my partner. OK, it might have been
more accurate to say that she and I did all the work, while our partners goofed
off. But I didn't care because I got to
work with her! She talked to me! I talked to her!
Sometimes our hands brushed around the Bunsen Burner! It was all a very big deal to me. (I was quite the shy-boy back then, rather
than the glib wordsmith you read before you today.)
I never dared ask her out; she was way out of my league (not
just because she was hot, but because she ran with all the “cool” kids). But she did let me drive her home from our
National Honor Society induction night, when she needed a ride. I was a nervous wreck, just having her in
the car with me.
To make matters worse, I got pulled over for having a
taillight out on the back of the family Jeep Wagoneer. I don’t think I brought my wallet with me
either, (so not to mess up the lines of my safari jacket ensemble), so I was sweating
bullets when I saw the cop behind me.
It was sweet when she offered to switch places with me. I totally should have let her, just so her
butt could rub across my lap.
Surprisingly enough, the cop never asked for my license, so I totally
dodged the bullet.
I wonder if she ever knew how smitten I was. I mean, after we graduated, the girl I
actually did date in high school asked me, “You
really admired [her name], didn't you?” And here, I thought I was
being subtle. I never, EVER mentioned
the auburn beauty to my girlfriend, nor did I ever stare or gawk. I guess chicks just know these things.
The first redhead I actually dated was a neighbor who lived a couple doors down. She was the traditional “Ralph Malph”
redhead with fair skin, lots of freckles, flaming red-orange hair and a saucy
attitude. As I was becoming interested
in her, her family moved out of the neighborhood before anything happened. But then when I was in college, I ran into
her at a local McDonalds, and we really seemed to hit it off.
I asked her out, and she accepted. We went on one date, but at the end, she said she just couldn't imagine herself “making out with an old
neighbor.”
I was like, “Who said
anything about making out? It’s just a
date…”
Of course I wanted to make out, but I couldn't say anything then, nor could I change her mind. I don’t think I ever saw her again after
that.
I've written before about my early college girlfriend, and how we were “off and on” for long
periods. During one of those “off”
times, before we really got going, I started flirting with another saucy,
orange-haired firecracker.
We ended up going out to dinner and ice skating. Afterwards, we went back to her house. Her dad was home, but he was in his basement
work room, so we started fooling around.
A few moments later, she said “Come
with me,” and led me by the hand toward the… bathroom! So romantic…
Anyway, she sat me on the toilet, stood before me and just
dropped trou. Zzzzip! I was like, “Damn, these redheads mean business…”
We didn't get very far though… mere moments later she thought
she heard her father come upstairs, so we reassembled ourselves and bolted from
the bathroom. Alas, it was a false
alarm, but the mood was killed.
After my relationship with my college girlfriend had run its
course, the redhead and I got together again and finished what we had started
in her bathroom.
Then in my junior year, I worked with a small group of
people at the college radio station.
We’d guest on each other’s shows, do production work together,
and conduct DJ training for the new radio wannabees. We hung out a good bit at the bars, as well. One of the group was another redhead. Her hair was a darker shade between orange-red
and my old deep-auburn crush, but she still had the light skin and freckles.
We were out one night, celebrating the end of spring
semester and our last radio work for the term, and ended up slow dancing and
then making out like crazed weasels. It
was too bad we started developing things so late in the school year… she was from
the Cleveland area, so she’d be spending the summer 2 hours away from where I
was in Toledo. We wrote to each other
throughout the summer and went out again the second she was back in town for
Fall Semester.
That night we ended up making out in the campus graveyard,
for lack of anywhere else to go. (I
drove a little Honda Civic hatchback, which was of no use at all.) We might have gone a little further, but
suffice to say, I wasn't the only visitor she was having that evening.
It didn’t last, though.
The day classes started, I was thunderstruck by a new girl who I ended
up dating and living with after I graduated.
(This was the “Fiancée” from my Bowling Green
Apartment, the Aborted 3-Way and Summer of Bow Chicka Wow Wow
stories. I could probably count her as
a redhead too, but that might be stretching it. Her hair was a kind of strawberry blonde when we first met. But counting her would take my percentage up
to 25%.)
After college, there were no more redheads until Pinky, and
that story is still unfolding, for six years running.
But like Pinky when she’s out in the sun, I’m
keeping it under wraps.
It’s not like I was ever seeking
out the redheads… for some reason, they just kind of ended up with me.
When I met Pinky via Match.com, she contacted me. Maybe I have some
quality that attracts redheads, like fiery moths to a dark and swarthy candle.
If I have a “type”, I guess I have tended to seek women that are the farthest from my own
kind. I have dark hair and brown eyes,
and come from a family full of dark-haired, brown-eyed people. What’s the farthest away from that? Blondes and redheads. I've dated a few girls with brown hair, but
I don’t think I've ever dated a girl with black hair. Well, maybe one, but she was a black girl, which is still pretty far from my background. (And believe me, that’s a story in its own
right.)
So what about you?
Do you go for a particular “type?”
Is there a “type” that tends to find you? Do tell.
I do have a type - the weird thing is that I married a guy who is the total opposite of my type. He did the same.
ReplyDeleteThat’s funny… Pinky always tells me the same thing. Every time I point out someone on TV that I like, (Tina Fey, Cat Deeley, Julie Bowen, etc), she always goes, “If that’s what you like, how did you end up with me?”
DeleteI always say, it’s not that I necessarily have a type, but some types seem to find ME.
By the way, she was always into brooding musician/artist type guys, yet she ended up with a sports fan/heathen blogger.
Whoo-hoo! Online dating for the win! I didn't know that about you and the Pinkster. Is she working on her vitamin D intake there or what?
ReplyDeleteYes, that’s what she has to do when she wants to enjoy being out in the sun, anytime between 10 AM and 6 PM. Otherwise, she will disintegrate into a wisp of smoke, like a vampire.
DeleteFunny thing: I always thought that I preferred brunettes, but I've almost always dated (and married) blondes. Go figure.
ReplyDeleteNever went red, though. So, put us together and the odds go back to normal, I guess.
I think who we want doesn’t end up being as important as who wants us…
DeleteAh-HA! So that's why you've been following my blog all this time. And here I thought you were smitten with my mind.
ReplyDeleteRed hair and a size-4, baby! Your mind is just the kicker!
Delete