Good Girls Don't

...but I do! Really the heading for this post should be "The things some guys won't do, but I will." I like the heading I posted better so....

I was sitting on my neighbor's porch one evening last summer, talking about the usual things. The kids, the yard, vacations etc. She complained that she'd hurt her back and was a little miffed because she couldn't bend down to polish her toenails. Now, there was a little boy inside me who was jumping up and down in his chair waving his hand in the air saying "Oh, oh! Pick me!" BUT of course I couldn't do that so I said: "Ask Jeff (her husband) to do it for you." Her response? "Oh, he'd never do that for me."

Really? I get to touch you and be sweet to you and make you happy? Hmmm, can't see the down side to anything there.

Another day: sitting in the living room watching TV with one of my adorable sister's in law and her husband. She complained that her feet were really sore and gee, she wished she could have some foot rubs. The little boy was practically falling out of his seat this time...OH PICK ME!!!

Instead I suggested to her husband that perhaps he might oblige her. His response with a laugh "I'm not touching those stinky things."

Go figure.

An Epihany

When I was twelve years of age or thereabouts, my folks and I traveled to Kentucky for spring break. We stayed at Shakertown and did some sightseeing in the beautiful areas around there. We stopped in Bardstown. In the center of that town is a traffic roundabout. On one side of that is a large limestone slab. Next to that slab is a plaque noting the significance of the slab that it was used as an auction block for slaves.

I posed atop the stone for a photo. As dad was taking the pic, an attractive young woman in her twenties happened by. She was wearing a plaid skirt and penny loafers as I recall. She asked my father how much would he take for me and some of the things I might be trained to do for her.

I just about swallowed my tongue. Then and there I wanted nothing more than to be her slave. I pictured myself ironing her clothes, being her house boy. If I displeased her, she'd punish me. If I was obedient I might be permitted to kiss her feet as a reward.

Of course, I was terribly ashamed of myself for having such feelings. It was less than manly after all.

Rosemary

Also when I was but a wee lad: I had a girl friend in the neighborhood. I'll never forget the first time I saw her. Were were probably 6 years old. I was enamored completely. She had long golden brown hair and olive skin. She had a long pretty nose with a little bump right at the middle. (One of my faves as far as noses go.)She was all around a very pretty girl.

We became good friends, played together nearly every day in the summer for a number of years up to about the age of 12 or so. We rode bikes, swam, fished climbed trees and shared sweets.

Sometimes we'd wrestle. I'd let her win. She'd pin me down and make me smell her feet. She always seemed to have the same pair of canvas Keds. A summer day in those left her toes quite ripe. Something like sweet malt vinegar on french fries at the county fair. Of course, I relished every opportunity and maneuvered myself to be defeated by her whenever I could.