Let's talk about Love

by Jayne Ormerod

   It’s a rite of passage, when a young girl bids adieu to group-movie nights and dances held in the high school gym and moves on “grown up” dates…like a military ball.

     It happened to me in 1979.  I’d met a guy at a frat party (also a rite of passage but not quite in the “grown up” date category!) and he invited me to the Navy Birthday ball to be held at a local resort and conference center.  Fancy-schmancy! He showed up on my doorstep wearing his formal U. S. Navy Dress Blue Uniform with “grown up” written all over him.  I sported a light blue chiffon, full-length gown. It was truly a Cinderella Moment for me…until we climbed into his rusty, pea-green Pinto hatchback.  But that’s another story for another day.

     This was 1979 and we were 18 which meant old enough to legally consume 3.2% beer (do the math: drink twice as much to get the same effect full octane beer.) The evening involved lots of men in dress blue uniforms, some sporting lots of medals on their chest (the commanding officer…) and lots of women in sparkling dresses.  We drank our beer and discussed (not talked mind you, but in a very grown-up way discussed) politics and literature and world events.  I pinched myself a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming

     I soon remembered the problem with drinking twice as much beer is that you have to visit the ladies’ room twice as often. Before we sat down to dinner (and grown-up speeches that would change the world!) I made one quick visit and returned to the ballroom in time to be seated at one of the many small round tables covered with white linen cloths. There was more stemware and silverware than I knew what to do it.       
     The “head table” with the high-ranking officers and their companions were seated on long dais at the front of the room, overlooking the dance floor which had been pressed into service as the buffet l line.

     They called us by table to take our turn at the buffett, so those of us not in line watched from our seats as other guests piled their plates high with roast beef, baked chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans (I don’t think they’d invented salad in 1979) and other high-carb foods that were the staple of our diet.  While it bore striking similarity to dining hall food, it tasted so much better when seated under dim chandelier lights  and with a linen (not paper) napkin in my lap.

     Eventually our turn came to go belly up to the buffet. It felt like every eye in the house watched me as I filled my plate. About half-way along, a server came up behind me and whispered in my ear…”Honey, you might want to pull your dress down…it’s all tucked up in your underwear.” 
     Yes, there is more to being "grown up" than dressing the part. 

     The good news is the young midshipman married me anyway.  Now that’s love!