December 31, 1980 was Wednesday

Pulled out the diary--just had to see. Was gonna write about the party in the chicken coop during our senior year. Too much beer blurs all that memory. Just know it was a good time, while I added names to my Kiss List. My high school classmates know all about my list. The world--well, not so much. And yes, that's another post. :) So I thought of other kinda memorable New Year's and 1980 came to mind.

Not so much what happened, but the person I chose to spend it with. My boyfriend at the time. Let's see, let's call him Camaro. Why? Because he had a black white one with a black top. Said it reminded him of the girlfriend of his dreams. Camaro was black, she was white. He pined for her. They dated 8 months. She met a guy, married and a had a son. Camaro's transmission was so stuck in neutral.

And yea, I dated him anyway.

So that NYE's, he wanted me to wear a particular outfit, which actually belonged to my roommate. She said no. She always complained I looked better in her clothes than she did. She even said that this past June. I digress. Camaro wanted us to wear matching outfits. We didn't. We were headed to the place to party The Joker, in Des Moines. The best and biggest dance place in town. Today--I think it's a department store. To really get to the point of this story.

We got into a fight. Well, it was actually a continuation of the fight earlier in the day. It wasn't a done deal we'd spend NYE together. We came together, a cup of molasses wasn't as thick as the tension between us. We fought alot.

Yep, I remember this. We were dancing, me in all my jheri curl glory, and him thinking he the black John Travolta, when somebody called our names. A friend wanted to take our picture. Camaro ignored the request and kept strutting his stuff. She yelled from the side of the flashing light floor (it was 1980). He still ignored her, so I called his name.

Wrong thing to do. It was ON. He yelled at me. I recall his eye buldged from his reptilian head. Being the girl I was then--I screamed a word that rhymes with "Luck" and added 'it' at the end. It's in my diary, in bold letters. Kid you not. And we both stormed off the crowded floor. Friends were concerned.

We made up, because I dated the idiot --er--guy off and and on for a couple more years. Camaro was a bit different. He thought he was a warlock. OK. Fine, but I don't think most warlocks read how to be a warlock out 25 cent booklets from the drug store. Because of him, I went to my first adult bookstore. This was way before you could order it on the Internet or buy your own videos. You had to go to the places with the one lone blue light bulb hanging. I was curious what went on there. Then my curiosity ended, the day when some humpty dumpty not too cute guy asked me, while I stood trying to look composed at the wall of magazines. No Better Homes and Gardens there, this guy opened a centerfold of a girl hanging all her stuff out and asked, "You swing?" As I iced in place, Camaro comes into view, and I usher him out.

Where had my Prince Charming been? Using up his quarters, saved for laundry, in the peep shows. As we walked out of the place, Camaro asked, "So what did you tell him?"

Yea, and I dated him. I survived that New Year's Eve. Oh wow, I could tell you stories. And ya know, what else I wrote on that diary page? That the NYE's was OK, but not as good as the NYE 1975. Which wouldn't you know, was the party in the chicken coop?

Anyway, cue the number one song at The Joker. Not one of my favorites, yet makes me smile.