Let's Hear it for the Boy
(Pitchford, D / Snow, T) Performed by Denise Williams
My baby he don't talk sweet,
He ain't got much to say
But he loves me loves me loves me,
I know that he loves me anyway
And maybe he don't dress fine,
But I don't really mind
'Cause every time he pulls me near,
I just want to cheer
Let's hear it for the boy
Let's give the boy a hand
Let's hear it for my baby,
You know you gotta understand
Oh, maybe he's no Romeo,
But he's my lovin' one man show
Whoa whoa whoa whoa
Let's hear it for the boy
My baby may not be rich,
He's watchin' every dime
But he loves me loves me loves me,
We always have a real good time
And maybe he sings off key,
But that's alright by me, yeah
'Cause what he does he does so well,
Makes me wanna yell
Let's hear it for the boy
Oh, let's give the boy a hand
Let's hear it for my baby,
You know you gotta understand
Oh, maybe he's no Romeo,
But he's my lovin' one man show
Whoa whoa whoa whoa
Let's hear it for the boy
'Cause every time he pulls me near,
I just want to cheer
Let's hear it for the boy
Oh, let's give the boy a hand
Let's hear it for my baby,
You know you gotta understand
Oh, maybe he's no Romeo,
But he's my lovin' one man show
Whoa whoa whoa whoa
Let's hear it for the boy
(Let's hear it for the boy)
Let's hear it for my man
(Let's hear it for my babe)
Let's hear it my man
(Let's hear it for the boy)
(Let's hear it for my babe)
(Let's hear it for the boy)
Let's hear it for my man
(Let's hear it for my babe)
(Let's hear it for the boy)
Pull yourself together
(Let's hear it for my babe)
(Let's hear it for the boy)
Whoa let's hear it for my boy
(Let's hear it for my babe)
Let's hear it for my man
(Let's hear it for the boy)
(Let's hear it for my babe)
Let's it for my man
Previously, I gave an overview of my friends in high school and this week I want to write about my boyfriends. As I said last week, I was surprised to find out that my best friends thought of me as a goodie two-shoes, but when I'm thinking about the things I want to say today, I suppose the label fits. More than that, I wasn't very kind, and I'm not too proud of that. I have no illusions that this story will have wide appeal; this post is just part of my memoir project.
I didn't have a boyfriend for most of grade ten, although I did go to a hockey game with a boy who asked me out. John sat behind me in history, and although I wasn't really attracted to him, I said yes because he caught me off guard. The "date" was awkward -- he was really quiet and I wasn't much interested in the game -- and when John continued to ask me out again, I made excuses until he stopped asking.
Nearing the end of grade ten, Kasia started dating a boy in grade twelve, Jamie, and as I was slightly jealous that they would be going to Prom together, I was openly friendly to Jamie's best friend James. James was not a good looking guy -- he was gawkily tall with frizzy hair and bad acne -- and he was not immune to my charms; he asked me out (we went to see Gandhi; longest movie I ever saw in the theater) and then he asked me to Prom. Yes, I was using him, but the way that James was showing me off that night, he was obviously using me, too. We actually did have a good time dancing together, and on the way home, he parked by the lake and nearly crushed me with his kisses. James was hungry for me and that panicked me; his urgent need plus the sickening medicinal smell from his acne cream plus my sense that he was violating some unspoken agreement (hey, we're not seriously a couple, right?) suddenly made me feel like I never wanted to be alone with James again -- and isn't that a cold-blooded thing to be thinking while kissing a boy who just brought you to Prom?
Meanwhile, I was in a city-wide Youth Orchestra, and before the end of the school year, we went on a band trip to Calgary and Red Deer. Also in the orchestra was a boy from another school, Greg, and I found him to be weirdly funny and fun to be around. When we were in Red Deer on the second night, everyone went to the hotel pool, and as we were totally unsupervised, there were boys and girls drinking together in the same rooms afterwards. At some point in the night Greg and I started kissing, and eventually, we fell asleep together (wearing our bathing suits the whole time). On the coach home the next night, we kissed the entire way in the dark, and by the time we got back to Lethbridge, we were a thing.
James was in the school library the next time I saw him, and when he asked when he could see me again, I told him about Greg. James started crying right there, and while I felt terrible, there was nothing I could do to change things and he snapped at me to leave him alone. As I got up to leave, James yelled loud enough for everyone in the library to hear, "You know he only wants you for one thing." And that really stunned me: did James -- the boy who had frightened me with his sexual hunger -- think, somehow, that only he could have a pure and untainted love for me? That no other boy could see and appreciate the real me? I was so offended that I snapped back, "Oh yeah? Well how would you know what I want?" Even at the time I knew that was cruel, but as he lowered his head onto his arms in sobs, I was satisfied that at least it was over.
As a side note: My mother says that at some point the high school principal mentioned to her that he loved seeing me and James together; it was proof that "winners" always find each other. When she tells this story, she always follows that up with, "And I was thinking to myself, 'Oh yeah, Krista was only with him because she wanted to go to Prom'." And while that's true, I don't know if I told her that or if she just assumed that, but I don't think Mum would have known that at the actual time she was talking to the principal. Either way, it's a terrible story for her to tell about me; I can't imagine what the underlying point is that she thinks it demonstrates.
As summer began, Greg was technically my boyfriend, but we didn't see each other much. He came to my house once to watch a movie, and because he was wearing a spiked dog collar as a fashion accessory, my brothers thought he was a little odd. (When Ken offered Greg a Milkbone, he started to bark and pant. I still haven't entirely lived that down.) Halfway through the summer, we made plans to go to McDonald's for breakfast and Greg was whistling outside my bedroom window at six in the morning. We made the long walk in the misty dawn, had our breakfast, and went back to his house to make out. He told me that day about a Mormon Youth Dance that was coming up (he was technically Mormon but non-practising), and as he thought that we could have some laughs making fun of the cleancut youths (he would obviously be wearing the dog collar), I said that I'd be happy to go with him.
Meanwhile, I had been hanging out that summer with some other kids from the Youth Orchestra. My friend Karen (a recent graduate who spent the summer teaching me to play the saxophone) had hooked up with a boy named Bill (in another hotel room in Red Deer, they were doing the nasty all night long), Kasia had met and started dating Bill's friend Miles, and through Karen, it got back to me that their friend Carl had a crush on me. Now, while Greg was fun and silly, Carl was a very sexy guy; even though they were only 17, these guys had a cover band that was very popular at weddings, and as they often played at the banquet hall where Kasia and I worked, we saw them play many times and Carl's singing and guitar playing were mesmerising; the crush was totally mutual. In the end, Carl asked me to go out with him the same night as Greg's Youth Dance, and as was my way, I blew Greg off and made up excuses every time he asked me out again; until he stopped asking.
The night of our date, Karen, Bill, Carl and I went to a movie, and afterwards, we bought slushies, went to the lake, and Carl brought out a bottle of rye. In a slushie, that booze went down fast and I drank way too much but had a loud and hilarious night of talking and laughing with my friends. When they dropped me off, I stumbled towards my gate and Carl got out of the car and gave me a long and passionate kiss good night. At just that moment, my parents drove up, pinning us against the fence with their headlights. Carl retreated to the car (Karen was driving and I never knew if she was drunk, too), and I stumbled into the house but didn't make it to my bedroom before my parents -- and my aunt and uncle -- came in. It took them a minute to realise how wasted I was, and when they did, they totally freaked out; Mum was screaming, "What are you on? Is it pills?" (No idea why her mind always went there when I was in high school). And when I slurred out, "Rye", my father grabbed me by the upper arm, started wildly spanking me with his other hand (which I couldn't feel but thought was a ridiculous thing to do to a 15-year-old), and then he shoved me into my room, telling me that I was never to see any of those kids again.
I was so sick that I spent the night puking in my garbage can and spent the rest of the weekend in bed. This my mother called "cruelly punishing" to her and my father, but there wasn't much else I could do. She informed me that Karen had called the next day to see how I was feeling, and Mum told her to never call again; to tell the boys the same thing. Two related stories: when Kyler was about 15 himself, he got totally wasted on some of my parents' booze before leaving the house. When they had to pick him up off the front lawn and ask him what had possessed him to get drunk like that, he told them that he had been "curious" about alcohol ever since he had heard I had gotten drunk. What a weasel! As if that was the first time he had ever been drunk; and in the end, I was the only one in trouble: apparently, because of me, Kyler could have gotten alcohol poisoning. (And I was so sick after that night of rye, I could have had alcohol poisoning myself and no one really thought about that at the time.) Also: many years later, my Aunt Carlene (who had married into the family and eventually left) was talking about how angry she had been that evening to see my father hitting me. When I pointed out that I was only 15 and had been out drinking and driving and that Dad was probably acting out of fear more than anger, Carlene's face fell; she was old enough at that point to see the picture more clearly (as was I) and she needed to reexamine that story in her memory.
I recognised that being with Carl that evening made me lose control and I made a pact with myself to be more wary of boys that I found super sexy. Carl was definitely out of the picture -- I don't remember if he even called me after getting the message that he wasn't supposed to -- but since my best friend Kasia was still dating their friend Miles, and since Karen had gone away to university and broken up with Bill, somehow me and Bill ended up together. I honestly don't remember how that came about, but he's the one this week's song is for. Bill was not particularly attractive (he was short and chubby with a round and boyish face) and he had no money (we didn't go on many real dates, and if he wanted to pick me up, he needed to borrow his sister's rusty old Mini Cooper), but he was absolutely in love with me and he served as a placeholder so I wouldn't throw myself at any more boys that could make me lose control. And that's not to say that I was using Bill as I had used other boys: I loved being with him, certainly didn't care that he had no money, but I simply knew from the start that it wasn't forever. I also knew that Bill would never pressure me to have sex with him, which is actually kind of amazing since I knew that he had had a sexual relationship with Karen; he never frightened me like James had and that is probably why we stayed together for a year. Let's hear it for the boy!
We were together through all of grade eleven, even though my mother believed that Bill had been my date the night I had gotten drunk, and she was afraid that my Dad would find out and freak. I told her Bill had been Karen's date that night, but she still thought I should refer to him as William around my Dad. Whatever. I don't remember if Bill ever came to my house that whole year; don't remember if either Mum or Dad met him; we spent most of our time together making out in Miles' basement or at the lake. Kasia and I were still working at the banquet hall that year, and if the guys were playing a wedding, we would often get changed out of our uniforms after our shift was over and join the reception; sometimes drinking if there was an open bar, but always, brazenly, sitting with the guests in our jeans. (How we didn't get in trouble for that I'll never know; I certainly would have noticed if the waitresses from my wedding dinner had joined the reception; I certainly would have gotten mad.) I remember my music teacher asking me once if Bill (who went to a different school) was my boyfriend, and he was happy to hear that he was because he was such a talented trumpet player (another educator who was pleased to see "winners" finding each other.) I went to Bill's school dances with him and was flattered that at the end of the school year a bunch of guys wrote in Bill's yearbook about how hot his girlfriend was. Only down side to Bill: because Miles was in grade twelve and Bill in grade eleven, Kasia got to go to Prom again but I didn't (I'm only half-joking that that was disappointing...) The summer after grade eleven, Bill and I were both in summer school (not to catch up but to get ahead) and we were able to spend whole days together. A friend of Bill's from his high school was in summer school with us and I remember him saying that he hoped to one day have a true love like the one that Bill and I obviously shared, and while I enjoyed being a part of that picture, I was starting to get a little bored of Bill; of having a boyfriend who didn't really turn me on. In the end, Bill solved that problem for me. Bill called me one evening, nerves in his voice, to tell me something urgent: he had been offered a role in Up With People! and if he took it, he would be leaving within a week to go on a world tour that would last up to a year. It was an amazing opportunity, but he didn't want to go if I wouldn't be there for him when he got back. I told him that either way he had to do it, and whether or not he understood from that comment that I wouldn't likely be waiting for him for a year, he joined the troupe and I was saved another messy breakup. Let's hear it for my babe!
One thing that we loved doing in Lethbridge was cruising: driving a loop up Mayor Magrath Drive, west on Third Avenue, and turning around to go back at either the A&W or the Lethbridge Lodge Hotel. As soon as I got my driver's license in grade eleven, driving around with a carload of kids was the best way possible to spend a free Friday or Saturday night; listening to Top Forty, talking to other carloads of kids at red lights, racing anyone who revved their engines against my classic '64 Dodge Polara. By the time Bill had left, my friends and I were working at Bonanza and new friends from there (and especially Curtis) would often come cruising with us after work. One evening in December, we were cruising and we saw a couple of guys on mountain bikes, and as we zoomed past, Curtis shouted out the window, "Get a horse!" Incredibly, these guys put on the steam and surprised us at the next red light by catching up to us, knocking on the window, and asking us to repeat what we had said. We were a carful of giggling girls, plus Curtis, and these were a couple of hot guys, all smiles. They waved for us to pull over, and we did. Lisa was having a party the next night, and after talking and flirting with them for a while, she invited them to come to it. At the party, I was getting a definite vibe from the better looking of the two guys -- who were both older than us; college students -- and I had to make an instant decision: become the kind of girl who hooks up immediately with some older hot guy or keep the whole thing more casual. I kept it casual and made a play for the shyer of the friends. I had just turned seventeen, Doug was twenty and an Environmental Sciences student before that was really a thing, and even though he didn't actually make a pass at me at the party, he asked me out and got my number before he left.
The hot friend had sex with Cindy at the party (*see last week's tale of a girl gone wild), and I was drunk enough to go to bed before the party actually ended. Soon, the door opened and a guy came in -- Cam from Bonanza (not Curtis' brother Cam; a different Cam) -- and although I was trying to pass out, Cam tried to declare his undying love for me while I tried to drunkenly explain that I was interested in this Doug guy, sorry. Then the door flew open again and Curtis came in, grabbed Cam and threw him out, and returned to make sure I was all right. I assured Curtis I was, tried to pass out again, and Curtis declared his undying love for me. By the next summer, I would be the first person that Curtis would come out to, but at this point (as he would later insist) he was just trying to play the straight game and we were good enough friends that he thought, "Why not?" I told Curtis that we were too good of friends to ruin it with anything more, and I liked Doug, and he left. As an aside: while cleaning up the next day, Lisa said her mother found a near empty vial from some hash oil, and when she asked Lisa what it was, Lisa snatched it and said it was from a perfume sample. By the time her father came flying down the stairs a few minutes later to inspect it, Lisa said she had flushed it down the toilet (*see last week's tale of apparently all my friends were doing drugs without me).
Doug did end up calling and we were a thing for the next six months. Now this was a man with a beard and opinions and an apartment. He took me to fancy dinners at the fine dining room at the Lethbridge Lodge (and apparently just showing up with a bearded man was enough to compel them to serve me wine underage) and he could sit and talk politics with my mother, and above all, he treated me with kid gloves; rarely more than gently kissing me (which was actually fine by me; I had chosen the right friend to suit my "don't lose control of myself ever again" philosophy). When the spring came, we were walking at the lake together one day and he started tickling me and he brought me to the ground and kissed me and said, "My God, I'm in love with you." Now, that seemed to come out of nowhere, and surprised, I teased, "No you're not". I'm sure that hurt his feelings because the mood changed and I never heard those words again (and because he cut open my thigh with the lace hooks on his hiking boots, I have a faint and jagged scar that has served as a lifelong reminder of that day). Because he was in college -- and the semester ended in April -- and because he was from Winnipeg, I had to say goodbye to him not long after this while he went home to work for the summer. He wrote me long and witty letters (he sent me some sand from the beach at Lake Winnipeg once with a list of things I could do with it, including digging my toes in it and burying my beer to keep it cold), but they were more friendly than lovey-dovey letters and I was happy either way. At the beginning of June, Doug called to ask me when my Prom was, and when I told him, he said he thought he could make it. We had never talked about Prom and this blew my mind. In the end, he left work on a Friday in Winnipeg, drove all night to get to Lethbridge, and while he napped through my actual graduation ceremony, my handsome boyfriend was at my side for Prom. Down side: we had never actually danced together before and he was a bit of a goofball when he let loose. Downer side: there was a freak snowstorm during the Prom and the kegger afterparty was cancelled. In the end, Doug was still exhausted and we went home right after the dance was done anyway, and the next day, he was gone again to drive back home to work the next day. He kept writing to me throughout the summer, but when September came, Doug didn't call me to let me know when he was back in town. I ended up going over to his apartment one evening, and he and his friends were sitting around passing a joint, bypassing me every time, and as no one was even talking to me, I left and went home. And never talked to or saw Doug again. I have no idea what happened, but I got wordlessly dumped, and although that made me sad and confused, this was when I had taken a semester off school to work at Lilydale, and I was too exhausted all the time to do much socialising anyway.
Within a month of starting university after Christmas, I met Glen -- the hunky redneck I mentioned last week -- and meeting him erased everyone who came before. I was finally in love, but I'll get to him eventually. This week was about my high school boyfriends and in the end it's not a very scandalous story. Sure, I was a goody two shoes, maybe an ice queen, maybe a user, but I wasn't a floozy. After that drunken night with Carl -- a night when I probably would have agreed to anything he suggested; I was that drunk; that attracted -- I made a more or less conscious decision to not have sex in high school, and I was able to find boyfriends who respected me enough (feared me enough?) to not even ask me if I wanted to. Must be a vibe I sent out; the same vibe that stopped my friends from asking me to get high with them. I know I wasn't always kind to these boys, and I figure that if they remember me with spite, that's only fair.
A related story: Many years later -- I may have even been married to Dave by then -- Mirella came to Edmonton and looked me up. She came to my place for coffee and caught me up on all the Lethbridge gossip and it wasn't until then that I learned that she and Greg had been together for years after I had moved away. She made some comment about how it was okay with her that Greg and I had been each others' "first", and I was like, "Whoa, wait a minute, Greg and I weren't together like that." Mirella sighed as though I was lying and assured me that even though Greg had said he had a hard time getting over me, she got over being jealous a long time ago; it was a-okay that we had slept together. That's where I stopped her: Did he say we slept together? Because that was true -- Greg and I had slept together once in a hotel room in Red Deer -- but all we did was sleep. Again, Mirella didn't believe me -- why would her longtime boyfriend have lied to her about something like that; she was much more prepared to believe him than me -- and she was annoyed with me by the time she left. I wonder if Mirella would have ever seen Greg again, if she would have confronted him with my denial: would he have stuck to his story? Does it matter? I'll never see any of these people again, and if some boy I done wrong once upon a time needs to tell a different tale, I suppose karma owes him that.
Let's hear it for the boy
Oh, let's give the boy a hand
Let's hear it for my baby,
You know you gotta understand
Oh, maybe he's no Romeo,
But he's my lovin' one man show
Whoa whoa whoa whoa
Let's hear it for the boy
