Letters (Nov 23)

Dudster,
what is there not to like about lifeguards.
They have a great tan and body.
They sit under an umbrella all day, with their cool dark sunglasses, their eyes following the girls in their bikinis inconspicuously.
They blow their whistle at the young kids 'no jumping into the pool' and then they get up and walk around the edge to check the whole area.

Yes, one of those. I fell for one of them.

He had long hair to his shoulders, a big mustache - hey, it was 1973.
And he was so much older. 21 in fact.
I had my little sister (9 years old at that time) walk over to him and ask him his age and name. Of course, she was to do this very innocently, like any curious kid. Very casually come back and tell me. But she blew it, by running back to where I was sitting on my towel in the grass and yelling "He's 21 and his name is...'.
I guess, now everyone in the pool knew who was asking. I was so embarrassed.

Well, I was 16 and I was sure he would not be interested in talking to me. So many pretty girls would sit next to his chair, chat with him, swim in front of him and entertain him.
But I was wrong, he came over later and we talked, we had a cigarette (I know, we smoked a lot in those days) and I am sure we ordered a sandwich.





NaBloPoMo November 2015

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