I had met Kathleen at a party earlier in the summer at the Providence home of one of the executive officers of the Rhode Island Chapter of Junior Achievement. The celebration was for the winners of the annual NAJAC awards. These awards were given out at the annual banquet at the oh-so-posh Biltmore Hotel L'Apogee Ballroom about a month earlier. Categories were in areas of business accomplishments such as Most Profitable Company, Top Salesperson, Most Innovative Product and Best Speaker, etc. I won for Best Speaker, I think (it was a long time ago and a whole different mindset:) Kathleen had been on one of the more profitable companies, I think, I really don't remember.
At the time I was still confused about my sexuality. I had already had a pretty hot fling with my best friend earlier that year but my love for him went unrequieted. He just wanted an easy blow job every now and again. I'll mention more of him in his own FLASHBACK some other time though. There are pages and pages of memories about him. Most of it sad and pathetic, I'm afraid.
Kathleen and I struck up a conversation and her attraction for me was very evident. Being shy and not one to come on strongly, I nearly missed the flirt but I caught it in time before the end of the party and arranged to go on a date with her.
On our first date we chose to go sailing. Her family had a house on the Kickamuit Estuary a body of water opening up towards the south into the larger Mount Hope Bay (itself eventually opening to the even greater Narragansett Bay) on the east coast of Bristol, Rhode Island, bordering Massachusetts.
The boat was a little fiberglass Sunfish. If you've never seen one, it's like a plastic rowboat with a sail on it. I had never been sailing before so Kathleen literally showed me the ropes. It was very easy and the boat was very manuverable since it was a warm and clear but gusty summer day.
We had decided at first to only sail to the head of the "river" where it meets the bay but since we were having such fun we decided to sail right into the bay. Once in the bay proper it really got exciting. Sailing a tiny boat which gets tossed around very handily by the smallest of waves into a broad expanse of salt water with deeper swells and choppy waters...let me tell you is quite invigorating and a little bit frightening.
Kathleen knew of a small sand spar in the middle of Mount Hope Bay called, plainly enough, simply Spar Island. It was just a spit of rocky/sandy land about 15 feet wide and 50 feet long and encrusted with empty and cracked shells of all kinds and lots of bird guano. I think she had the idea it would be a great little make-out spot, and from the empty and broken beer bottles and remains of crude campfires, so did other couples think that (...don't know where these past visitors had gotten the wood, of course there wasn't a tree, bush or even a notable sized patch of grass anywhere, maybe they brought it with them). I made no "move" on her, though (big surprise, huh?) and after some brief sunbathing decided to head back to the house.
On the trip back, I took the ropes in-hand and now that we were heading into the wind we had to tack back and forth along our general course to catch the head-on wind and fill our sail to move our boat in diagonals against the wind. I got a little too rambunctious and suddenly lost control of the sail. It filled with a strong gust of air and since we were not prepared properly to "go about" (shift weight on the boat by moving to one side to compensate for the pull of the sail to the other side), our boat promptly capsized.
As we were flipping over for some weird reason I wasn't the least bit concerned. I was thrilled and the unexpected plunge into the deep dark grey waters of the bay was welcomed. I even have a feeling in all honesty, hindsight being 20/20 and all, that I probably intentionally caused the "accident". This too despite being a couple miles at least from shore, and, being teenagers too cool to look pathetic wearing bright orange lifejackets, we were sans floatation vests.
Luckily, the water was relatively warm for New England sea water (nothing like the steamy piss water of Florida, of course) and Kathleen and I were very good swimmers. (Back then I had a tight swimmers build and powerful legs from biking). Also in our favor the Sunfish is really lightweight and watertight so it was a cinch righting it and bailing out the few gallons left in order to set her quickly on course again.
My big regret though was that my Sperry Top-Siders sank speedily to the bottom of Mount Hope Bay. Gee, they were so lightweight I would have thought they could float, but they didn't. Back in 1981 for us college-bound New England middle-class kids, it was "so the rage" to emulate the Preppy lifestyle, and a nice well-worn pair of Top-Siders were essential to the well-dressed preppy.
Kathleen and I would continue dating for the rest of that year and on up to the Spring of 1982. Our breakup at my insistance is a whole other episode though. We never had sex, yet we did make out and had some light petting. Really tame stuff. She was a pretty timid Catholic school girl and I probably came off to her as very respectful and pretty pious, but we know that wasn't why I was abstaining from making attempts at anything more than first base...she just didn't have the right junk down there, of course. Perhaps she even suspected I was gay but she never complained and never asked if I were or not.
Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies.
At the time I was still confused about my sexuality. I had already had a pretty hot fling with my best friend earlier that year but my love for him went unrequieted. He just wanted an easy blow job every now and again. I'll mention more of him in his own FLASHBACK some other time though. There are pages and pages of memories about him. Most of it sad and pathetic, I'm afraid.
Kathleen and I struck up a conversation and her attraction for me was very evident. Being shy and not one to come on strongly, I nearly missed the flirt but I caught it in time before the end of the party and arranged to go on a date with her.
On our first date we chose to go sailing. Her family had a house on the Kickamuit Estuary a body of water opening up towards the south into the larger Mount Hope Bay (itself eventually opening to the even greater Narragansett Bay) on the east coast of Bristol, Rhode Island, bordering Massachusetts.
The boat was a little fiberglass Sunfish. If you've never seen one, it's like a plastic rowboat with a sail on it. I had never been sailing before so Kathleen literally showed me the ropes. It was very easy and the boat was very manuverable since it was a warm and clear but gusty summer day.
We had decided at first to only sail to the head of the "river" where it meets the bay but since we were having such fun we decided to sail right into the bay. Once in the bay proper it really got exciting. Sailing a tiny boat which gets tossed around very handily by the smallest of waves into a broad expanse of salt water with deeper swells and choppy waters...let me tell you is quite invigorating and a little bit frightening.
Kathleen knew of a small sand spar in the middle of Mount Hope Bay called, plainly enough, simply Spar Island. It was just a spit of rocky/sandy land about 15 feet wide and 50 feet long and encrusted with empty and cracked shells of all kinds and lots of bird guano. I think she had the idea it would be a great little make-out spot, and from the empty and broken beer bottles and remains of crude campfires, so did other couples think that (...don't know where these past visitors had gotten the wood, of course there wasn't a tree, bush or even a notable sized patch of grass anywhere, maybe they brought it with them). I made no "move" on her, though (big surprise, huh?) and after some brief sunbathing decided to head back to the house.
On the trip back, I took the ropes in-hand and now that we were heading into the wind we had to tack back and forth along our general course to catch the head-on wind and fill our sail to move our boat in diagonals against the wind. I got a little too rambunctious and suddenly lost control of the sail. It filled with a strong gust of air and since we were not prepared properly to "go about" (shift weight on the boat by moving to one side to compensate for the pull of the sail to the other side), our boat promptly capsized.
As we were flipping over for some weird reason I wasn't the least bit concerned. I was thrilled and the unexpected plunge into the deep dark grey waters of the bay was welcomed. I even have a feeling in all honesty, hindsight being 20/20 and all, that I probably intentionally caused the "accident". This too despite being a couple miles at least from shore, and, being teenagers too cool to look pathetic wearing bright orange lifejackets, we were sans floatation vests.
Luckily, the water was relatively warm for New England sea water (nothing like the steamy piss water of Florida, of course) and Kathleen and I were very good swimmers. (Back then I had a tight swimmers build and powerful legs from biking). Also in our favor the Sunfish is really lightweight and watertight so it was a cinch righting it and bailing out the few gallons left in order to set her quickly on course again.
My big regret though was that my Sperry Top-Siders sank speedily to the bottom of Mount Hope Bay. Gee, they were so lightweight I would have thought they could float, but they didn't. Back in 1981 for us college-bound New England middle-class kids, it was "so the rage" to emulate the Preppy lifestyle, and a nice well-worn pair of Top-Siders were essential to the well-dressed preppy.
Kathleen and I would continue dating for the rest of that year and on up to the Spring of 1982. Our breakup at my insistance is a whole other episode though. We never had sex, yet we did make out and had some light petting. Really tame stuff. She was a pretty timid Catholic school girl and I probably came off to her as very respectful and pretty pious, but we know that wasn't why I was abstaining from making attempts at anything more than first base...she just didn't have the right junk down there, of course. Perhaps she even suspected I was gay but she never complained and never asked if I were or not.
Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies.