Some people tell horror stories about their first dates.
I pretty much made sure I’d be able to do so: I took my date to see “The Omen.”
That was in the summer of 1976. I’d pestered a good-looking classmate a few times, and she finally agreed to go out with me, probably just so I’d stop calling.
The commercials for the movie starring Gregory Peck looked pretty cool, so I asked if she’d like to go see that. She said she didn’t really care.
So off we went, my dad serving as chauffeur. My date didn’t talk much in the car. Nor in the theater. She just kind of made it clear she didn’t want to be hanging out with me.
After the movie, I asked if she wanted to get something to eat. Of course not. So I dropped a dime into the pay phone, called my dad, and he picked us up.
She got out of the car when she reached her home. I didn’t. Dad promptly yelled at me for not walking her to the door.
My second date, whenever that occurred, went much better. I don’t remember what movie we saw, but it sure as hell wasn’t “The Omen II”!
Afterhours: The girl from the first date ended up on “Survivor” decades later. I’m guessing she remembers nothing about me or our night out …
Associated Listening: “Living the Blues” by Canned Heat (1968)