After we met the writer (and rather interrupted his writing, I guess) - we went back to the resort where we worked and lived.
Later that week, the writer called me and asked if I would like to go out to dinner - on, like, Saturday night, or Friday night, or something.
I had this pink dress I had bought for some reason - I had a job, I had some money, and I got it because it fit and I liked it.
I said yes to dinner, and wore that dress.
I had never really had a real date, before.
And this man was handsome, interesting, and 27 years older than me.
45, and I was 18.
I didn't hesitate to say yes when he called me, but then later I thought about it - am I "allowed" to go out with a man who is that much older than me?
I decided I was allowed. I was allowing myself.
Lovely evening. Conversation was fun and easy. He was not a negative person. He didn't complain, or scoff, or try to manipulate me.
And after dinner we went to a nightclub in Keystone and danced!
He told me the music they were playing was "disco," & that it was going to be the next big trend.
(He was right - a month and a half later when I got to B.U., it was a close guess which music was coming out of the most dorm rooms - Fleetwood Mac's Rumours album, or the songs from Saturday Night Fever....
Well you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I'm a woman's man, no time to talk...)
