How did I get all the way to age 20 with my girlfight innocence intact?
Well, the first huge thing that helped was no having any sisters. I just had one older brother, who was sweet as could be to me all the time. So when friends of mine would complain about smackdowns they had taken from older sisters, or administered to younger sisters, I assumed they were exaggerating. I thought all siblings got along as gently and sweetly as my older brother and me.
Now, at high school itself, or at dances, or on the school bus ride home, there was occasional head-butting between female classmates. But most of the time it was just posturing and tough-talking. The clear-eyed mean-ness of one of the girls would occasionally get provoked--but that by itself always seemed to short-circuit a physical confrontation that felt like was building. There was once a senior girl on the bus who got so agitated on the ride home to a planned after-school fight with a junior that the junior actually developed second thoughts, and refused to get off at the stop the fight was going to happen at. Normally, the cowardice and loss-of-face by the recalcitrant junior would have been devastating to her status; but the loss of composure by the too-anxious-to-start senior was so undignified that the school bus passengers gave her a pass.
The rumor mill had it that they did end up fighting, but no where that I was fortunate to witness.
Our high school had a traditional powderpuff football game against the town next to us. I hopefully attended, anticipating not (necessarly) a full-blown bout, but certainly at least some catty pushing and shoving. Instead, unfortunately, and collisions were followed up immediately with an extended hand and a back-slap. Good sportsmanship was the order of the day, even when girls competed. Evidentally.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
Why let everyone else always do the dirty work? Why not mix it up yourself? You know you want to.
It's true. I wanted to. Nearly everyday. To get into a girlfight.
It started with weekday afternoon soap operas. The plots were usually pretty stupid. But more importantly, they would drag on for weeks. Married couples falling out of love with each other and growing apart. Single people crushing on each other but never able to quite connect (Luke and Laura's 1981 wedding on General Hospital being the exception that proved the rule). Or couples connecting, then circumstances removing them from each others'lives--a melodramatic unlikely illness, a relocation.
Relocation. That traumatic event of 1970s childhood.
With no Snapchat or Facebook or email, if parents moved states for a job in the 1970s, or even just moved 3 towns away for a bigger house, you lost touch with that classmate forever. FOREVER. Think about that. There was no realistic way to stay in touch.
And it never failed. The person that moved always fell into one of three categories:
> a boy you had a crush on
> a girl you were friends with
> a girl you wanted to challenge to a fight.
I had someone in each category move away (Upstate New York was already shrinking in population, not growing).
My person in the 3rd category, the girl I wanted to fight, was named Dawn. She and I had this thing--we never spoke. We either gave each other the cold shoulder, ..... or the cold stare.
I don't know how it started, but at some point over the years, we decided the other was a snob, and we decided we didn't care for each other. At the mall or the cafeteria table, we would snub each other. In the mall, we'd "bump each other by accident" and not apologize. At school dances, we'd leave a fruit punch circle if the other joined. We never invited the other over for sleepovers. If we found out the other was attending a mutual sleepover, we'd be a no-show.
At some point, I just took at as a given that Dawn and I would fight someday, and probably sooner rather than later. One or the other would make a catty comment to each other, the other would say, "Excuse me?
," and it would be totally on.
Or, a false or true rumor would start that the other had said something about the snob-ishness of the other.
Or, an instigator girl at the school would "start shit"/"stir the pot" between Dawn and me.
Or, one night at 9pm I'd just pick up the phone, call Dawn, and say, "Wanna fight?".
Or, she'd call me and do the same.
But somehow, none of the above happened. And one day, Dawn didn't come back to school from Winter Break.
She had moved away.
I actually went home and cried. Then after I cried it out, I pulled down my pants. I pictured myself picking up the phone, telling Dawn I couldn't take the tension between us anymore.
Tension at school.
Tension at dances and football games.
Tension at the mall.
Tension at sleepover.
I'd tell her that I thought it was time she and I met somewhere and "fought it out".
We might not be friends after that. But at least we wouldn't need to look over our shouldrrs everywhere.
She'd agree. After school the next day, we'd go into the woods, alone, and catfight.
There might be a winner, there might not.
But evertime I'd imagine that fight which would now never happen, I came.
I loved thinking about it.
But my heart ached that we never fought.
To be continued......