The Adolescent Halloween Escort

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It seems that the age of kids dating nowadays is getting younger and younger…soon it’s going to get to the point where the boy shows up at the door with a corsage, a box of chocolates, and an extra change of diapers.

I’M all for it. But my parents aren’t. All my life, my parents told me that I could not date until I was 16. And I was fine with that...until 8th grade.

That is when I got a boyhood crush on Lisa.  She was my junior high version of Farrah Fawcett-Majors.  Every time she smiled, the dimples in her face sucked in all the light around her and created twinkles in her eyes that illuminated the space around her face.  She had a perfect 8th grader body that made the helpless, hapless hormones rage, rattle, and reverberate inside my adolescent cage.   

She was smart - like a scientist that finds the cure for the common cold:
(In a German accent) “Zie little orange juice here, und zie little dash of pepper zahr, und zie drop of zie nitro glyceride…und POOF!!” 

She was funny - like a two-headed cow that quotes Shakespeare in a hillbilly accent:
(Mooing) “To beaaaaayyyy, or not to beaaaaaaaaayyyy…that is the question.”  

And she was musically talented - like a 10-armed alien that can play 16 different instruments at the same time…including the ukulele:
(Alienish) “Tip toe through the tulips…”  

(Excited) WOW!!..........(getting self conscious)..........I mean...........(nonchalant) she was alright.

Even though I was only 14 years old in 8th grade, I wanted to go out with Lisa. I wanted to take her to the local Halloween haunted house.

The parents were opposed.

“Please let me go…it won’t really be a date…there will be other people there.”  

“I’m sorry son, it is too much like a date…you cannot go.”  

“Is there any way we could compromise” (back then, I didn’t really use the word “compromise,” but you get the gist of it)? 
(Big Breath) “Pllllllleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaa…(breathe again)…aaassssssssseeeeeeee.”

Why is it that my parents trust my little brother (2 years younger than me) but not me?  That’s right, the “finding the middle ground” was me having to take my little brother along on the “date”…

After my dad dropped the 3 of us "happy" souls off at the haunted house (the boy, the babe and the brother), I finally got a chance to really look at my voluptuous, vibrant, and vivacious Halloween "Non"-Date.  Since it was October, there was a perfect chill in the air. Lisa was wearing a white, very elegant looking faux fur.  It was soft and sleek, like a... 

“Are you gonna try and kiss each other tonight?”  

And thus it began…the barrage of little brother questions that annoyed, aggravated, and annihilated any chance of romance with this “hopefully soon-to-be” girlfriend.  He was like Cassias Clay, darting in and out between us, verbally punching here, linguistically gouging there, and avoiding the punches thrown at him by my seemed-to-be-slow-motion fists.  He was floating like a bubble, and stinging like poison ivy. 

I had two options. Murder or…………..........……(I’m thinking).................murrrrrrrrderrrrrr orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…….................…(hmmmmmm - I’m still thinking)…..................…um,…..........…murrrrrrrderrrr orrrrrr......(ding! light goes on) oh....uh, murder or bribery.

There is something you should know about my little brother…he can be bought.  So, instead of using the nearby skeleton to beat my brother to death, I handed him a $20 bill.  I didn’t see him until the end of the date…where he had a hot little 11 year old hanging on his arm and on his every word.

I had a GREAT date!

The next conversation with my parents sounded like this:

“Please let me go…it won’t really be a date…there will be other people there.”  

“I’m sorry son, it is too much like a date…you cannot go.”  

“Is there any way we could compromise” (back then, my little brother didn’t really use the word “compromise,” but you get the gist of it)?   

So this time I had to tag along on HIS “date.”

It’s a good thing he kept the $20.

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