TMI from the Bad Old Days

She was reared in Pennsylvania and I still have her recipe for a wonderful blueberry coffeecake. She made it and invited two other ladies and myself over one Sunday morning while our respective husbands studied at the library. It was a rare indulgence in those lean times to be able to entertain or just to be able to sit and chat idly. The tiny railroad flats we lived in had been built for married students returning from WWII and the university saw no reason to encourage boomers to marry by replacing it. The housing was just a step above living in a cardboard box. Snow blew in through the cracks near the baseboard and the walls were so thin that everyone knew more about their neighbor’s marital relationships than they wanted to.

My host’s name was Caroline, a tiny dark haired beauty, practical and hard working; she kept her little shanty immaculate and made the most of every penny. Her husband was tall, thin, and angular and her high school sweetheart. This morning the conversation moved unexpectedly from the kitchen to the bedroom and true confessions about our wedding nights. I had been pretty sure mine was the worse imaginable but that was before Caroline laughingly told me of her first intimate moment.

She was a virgin bride, as most of us said we were in those days, and although she dated her husband all through her childhood, she only had anecdotal information about sex.  They were both exhausted after a long day of wedding festivities but neither she nor her young groom were amenable to waiting for another day to consummate the love they had both held dear for so long. Caroline had talked in whispers to her friends and in her words, “was expecting the gates of heaven to open”. The raw-boned nervous groom had instructions from older brothers and friends as ignorant as he, and of course at 19 was more than ready for the grand opening.

Caroline face took on a pinched look. “He started to try to, you know,” she said as we were more into euphemisms in those days, “and it wasn’t feeling good at all.” She raised her arms in the air and opening her palms upward to the sky said, “This was definitely not the gates of heaven. I told him, Honey, do you think you could use something?” Her husband Bill heads off for the bathroom and comes back shortly to try again. “It really didn’t feel any better” Caroline grimaced, “but I didn’t stop him.” We all shook heads in understanding about young and inexperienced lovers. Caroline continued, encouraged by our empathy. 

“The next morning when I headed into the bathroom I saw an open tube of Head and Shoulders sitting on the sink. Honey, “ she called to him as he lay in the hotel bed half asleep, “What did you use last night when you came in here?”

A masculine voice responds innocently “I don’t know, whatever was in that tube.” When her husband returned from the library a few hours later we were all still sitting around the table cackling with raucous laughter. “What’s so funny,” says Bill as he leaned down to kiss his bride

“Oh nothing honey,” Caroline responds with giggles, “just girl talk.”