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Every once in a blue moon, I find myself remembering Liz Lamb. Tonight happens to be one of those.
It was the summer of 1977 and I was working a summer job, part-time night shift as a gas station cashier. 11pm to 7 am, Fri and Sat nights, as I recall. It was a pretty quiet gig, but at least I was allowed to listen to the radio and allowed to read while on duty. I don't think I ever nodded off on the job. I also remember spending a lot of my time re-reading a biography of Marc Bolan, whom I had just gotten into.
A lot of the details have gotten sketchy and dubious, but here are some. This one night in late August, right near the start of my shift, this slim pretty redhead comes up to pay for her gas. She's very friendly and outgoing and charming, and somehow we end up talking a fair bit longer than her purchase actually required. The next night, she came back, to buy much less gas, and we talked even longer. Fortunately no other customers came by during these times to interrupt us. And this time, before she goes, she tells me that she'd like to take me out to dinner. So I let her know where to pick me up, we arranged a time during the week, and off she went.
I remember my mom thought this was all rather odd. TBH so did I. But I went.
She took me for a fairly late meal at a local restaurant. I remember we drank Mateus, which I had never had before, and I had a fair bit of it. (At one point I was sitting in a stall in the restroom and I could feel the room turning head over heels.) Then she wanted us to go hang at a friend's place out on the edge of town. We got there, and before we went in we spent a little while necking against her car. At one point I had her bent back onto the hood, my hands wandering over her. When we got in, there were a few guys in the house, Liz was the only girl, and I sat in a corner of a couch, very quiet. As I recall, they were smoking up a bit, which I didn't touch yet. At least there were tunes, which were okay, but TBH I was pretty bored.
Finally she drove me home, and there was a small good night kiss, but I don't recall anything being said about doing this again. In part, I guess, because we were both set to leave town and go off to school in the very near future, and we both knew that we both knew. So that's really all there was to it.
The main reason I keep thinking about this is just the strangeness of a beautiful stranger asking me out. I mean, to me she looked like the sort of woman who could have anyone she wanted. And I certainly wasn't all that.
And yet she seemed to want me. And yet only sorta. I really don't know what prompted her. And I also wonder when [and how much] she regretted doing it, after all. But yeah, it made me feel attractive for a while, in a way that few events and few people have done, either before or since.
Sometimes I wonder where she is, how she's doing. Whatever happened to her. And does she remember me, and, if so, how. I doubt I will ever know.
It was the summer of 1977 and I was working a summer job, part-time night shift as a gas station cashier. 11pm to 7 am, Fri and Sat nights, as I recall. It was a pretty quiet gig, but at least I was allowed to listen to the radio and allowed to read while on duty. I don't think I ever nodded off on the job. I also remember spending a lot of my time re-reading a biography of Marc Bolan, whom I had just gotten into.
A lot of the details have gotten sketchy and dubious, but here are some. This one night in late August, right near the start of my shift, this slim pretty redhead comes up to pay for her gas. She's very friendly and outgoing and charming, and somehow we end up talking a fair bit longer than her purchase actually required. The next night, she came back, to buy much less gas, and we talked even longer. Fortunately no other customers came by during these times to interrupt us. And this time, before she goes, she tells me that she'd like to take me out to dinner. So I let her know where to pick me up, we arranged a time during the week, and off she went.
I remember my mom thought this was all rather odd. TBH so did I. But I went.
She took me for a fairly late meal at a local restaurant. I remember we drank Mateus, which I had never had before, and I had a fair bit of it. (At one point I was sitting in a stall in the restroom and I could feel the room turning head over heels.) Then she wanted us to go hang at a friend's place out on the edge of town. We got there, and before we went in we spent a little while necking against her car. At one point I had her bent back onto the hood, my hands wandering over her. When we got in, there were a few guys in the house, Liz was the only girl, and I sat in a corner of a couch, very quiet. As I recall, they were smoking up a bit, which I didn't touch yet. At least there were tunes, which were okay, but TBH I was pretty bored.
Finally she drove me home, and there was a small good night kiss, but I don't recall anything being said about doing this again. In part, I guess, because we were both set to leave town and go off to school in the very near future, and we both knew that we both knew. So that's really all there was to it.
The main reason I keep thinking about this is just the strangeness of a beautiful stranger asking me out. I mean, to me she looked like the sort of woman who could have anyone she wanted. And I certainly wasn't all that.
And yet she seemed to want me. And yet only sorta. I really don't know what prompted her. And I also wonder when [and how much] she regretted doing it, after all. But yeah, it made me feel attractive for a while, in a way that few events and few people have done, either before or since.
Sometimes I wonder where she is, how she's doing. Whatever happened to her. And does she remember me, and, if so, how. I doubt I will ever know.
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