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TABLE TALK

As if Arkansas wasn't enough, a 4-year-old in Cleveland showed up to preschool with a loaded gun. Are the parents to blame? Join the debate in Mothers

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[ CONTESTANT No. 1 ]

NOT QUITE A GOLD MEDAL-WINNER
By Charissa Reid
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It was 1981, and as a typical 19-year-old, I was impressionable, insecure and longing for romance. Imagine my delight when a friend set me up on a blind date with a true American hero -- an Olympic athlete. The man -- who, for his sake, will go unnamed -- was tan and handsome, and he had a body to die for. As a native Montanan, I was more than a little taken with winter athletes in general, but this fellow had golden potential in more ways than one.

The night he arrived at my door, I was scrubbed clean, wearing a very lacy camisole, my favorite white sweater and just enough of my roommate's jasmine body oil here and there to make an impression. We went out to dinner and talked (mostly about how neat he was) and then walked home oh so slowly. We made some tea, and then (wasn't it inevitable?) ended the evening mashing frantically on the couch.

He was hard and lean and tasted like tea and suntan lotion. The kisses were great, the huge hands were gifted and everything was going along just as Mother Nature had planned. The minutes turned into hours and clothing was loosened and then lost; the jasmine oil discovered and quickly evaporated away by the sweaty circumstances.

Did I mention that I was still a virgin at this point?

In any case, everything was going fine until I decided that there would be no new territory explored and called a gentle end to the workout. He begged (a little) and smiled (deliciously) and then delivered what had obviously been an extremely successful line for him in the past: "Please ... if a man comes outside of a woman's body, it is extremely painful for him."

I'm not making this up. It's really true. It's funny how a few poorly chosen words can have so much influence. The tryst was over: No goodnight kisses were exchanged, we never went out again (nor was I asked) and I never even had a sexual fantasy about the boy. And I must admit, he did look a little pained as he walked, I mean hobbled, down the stairs to his car.

SALON | March 31, 1998

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