Saturday, March 18, 2017

In the Backseat of my Ol' 63.

On FB recently, someone posted a picture of a very nice 1963 Black Chevy Impala with the comment "Have you ever sat in one of these?"

In fact, back in the day, many more than one. My Dad of all people had the nicest one I had ever seen. A Gunmetal Blue Super Sport convertible. Which by the way was off limits for my brother and I to drive.

In later years, I acquired another less impressive Impala whose back seat served as a weak drive in training ground for my teen aged girlfriends. Over the years, I wonder what the girls thought and more importantly what it would have been like to switch places with them. Along the way, I thought my awkward moves may have sent a couple of them to the lesbian side of the ledger.

Regardless a few of them allowed us to "cuddle" in the back seat, away from those pesky bucket seats and gear shift handle. Although, if the girl was sitting too close, sometimes you could be "sly" and touch a little leg when your hand "accidentally" slipped off the shift knob. I am sure through all of this the girls knew exactly what was going to happen. Although similar to a cheap adventure show, no one was sure when or what was going to happen.

My only two car claim to fame's came when I bought a 67 GTO (used) and a 63 Cadillac Hearse (used) to drive a short distance back a forth to college. Obviously, gas for both was much cheaper back in the day. The Hearse of course was some sort of a chick magnet...or the opposite. I ended up selling the GTO when I went away to the Army and blew the head gaskets out of the Hearse and junked it.

I wish I could say I had this wonderful sexual mosaic to write about, but I just don't. I think I had too much respect for women and put them too high on pedestals to think about what I was doing. Regardless of my conquests, I ended up moving on or being someone's possible best friend.

Of course it all came to an end when I had to take off three years for the Army's fun and games. At that time I made a real effort to have a clean slate and not have any "girlfriends" when I left. Looking back now, I think I was distancing myself from others because of my gender dysphoria.  The fewer people I had to tell in the future the better.

Fortunately, I have no way of even seeing or contacting those girls of so long ago. The only way would be my 50th year high school reunion this year. Which I am not going to.

We will get to why, in a later post.


1 comment:

  1. I understand the idea of distancing, and taking advantage of making a clean break. I had to move to another city just at the end of my junior year in high school. My plan was to not only leave everything and everybody behind, but also to be careful not to develop any close relationships in my new environment. It was my one and only purge, as I had also decided to break off with myself - insofar as my gender identity was concerned. Although my suppression of self lasted for seventeen years, my vow to avoid close relationships ended only four months later, on September 23, 1968 (I can still remember the exact place and situation, too), the day I met the girl to whom I would later be married. As it relates to my internal battle of suppression, it was the power of testosterone and social convention over my female brain to which I caved. Also, I just wanted to be loved by someone, and I could not see that happening had I been whatever I was trying so hard not to be.

    I sometimes wonder where I'd be had I stuck with my original plan, but as badly as I've messed up lives of those I love over the past three decades, at least there is still some kind of love that has survived. As for the rest of the people from my past, the ones I managed to keep a safe distance from, I really don't care too much who they might think me to be today. For them, and with them, there was little investment in the first place.

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A Life in Gender Flux