My First Date
Author: Art Nefsky

Theresa was a cheerleader and the school Social convenor.

One afternoon, around lunchtime, I was at my locker and Theresa approached me, wide-eyed and smiling and said, "You’re Art Nefsky, aren’t you?". I nodded, and she introduced herself. She said she recognized me from the school plays. We talked some more and she said, "See ya", and walked away smiling.

I stood there, wondering if she liked me. But she was beautiful – a very popular and sexy cheerleader (who also did great cartwheels), so I dismissed it. How could someone like that be possibly interested in me? Then I realized. "That’s right! She just met me. She doesn’t know me. She saw me in a play and was fooled into thinking that I was ‘somebody’. I hope she doesn’t find out who I really am. Then I’ll really be embarrassed."

One evening, we wound up at the same party that someone invited me to. (Anytime I was at a party, I usually stood around in one corner of the room trying to look comfortable and watched everything going on). The party was all over the house, and in one room, people were playing a game called "Choo Choo". A chain of boy, girl, boy, girl, (like the Bunny Hop) would come choo chooing into the room like a train. The person at the end of the line would grab someone of the opposite sex and go choo-chooing out the door into the other room. Theresa was at the end of the line and picked me. When we got into the other room, the first person in the line would kiss the second person passionately, then the second would kiss the third, and so on down the line… except, the last person gets slapped. (Fun huh?) I didn’t mind at all. Hell, you only get slapped once. The next time, you get a real kiss.

This time down the line, Theresa and I got to kiss. I had never been kissed like that before. (Actually, except for one, tight-mouthed peck, I’d never really been kissed at all). Her lips were soft, and her mouth opened and closed as we kissed. I remember thinking that I didn’t like to drink from other people’s bottles, because I was afraid of getting germs, but this was fun and worth it. Unfortunately, there were only two people left in the room to slap, so we only kissed twice.

I walked her home after the party (about two miles). I didn’t talk much. The adrenaline was pumping away inside me as I tried to figure out a way to ask her out. I slowed down the pace of our walk so I could buy more time to summon up the courage. I was 16, had never been on a real date before, and didn’t have a clue where I could take her. I was scared to death of being rejected. Just as we got to her door, a brainstorm hit me. "Um… uh… The Drama Club is entered in the Simpson’s Drama Festival in a couple of weeks and I have to go see it." In an (I don’t care if you come or not) tone to my voice, I asked, "You wanna come?" Her face lit up and she said "Sure!" She kissed me goodnight and quickly went into her house.

The walk home was interesting. Half of the time I was floating down the street thinking, "This is the greatest night of my life". The other half was saying, "Holy shit! What did I get myself into?"

I had two weeks to think about what we were going to talk about on our date. I tried out all kinds of "small talk" and pictured dozens of scenarios in my head. A few days before the "big day", she found me in the Music room and, looking enthusiastic, but a little nervous, asked me how I thought she should dress. I said "Casual", and that was about all the conversation I could muster up. It didn’t occur to me that she was actually excited about going out with me, and worried about what I thought of her.

The day finally came. "Nervous", is not the word to describe how I was feeling. "Numb" is a little closer, but doesn’t quite make it. You know the sensation your foot gets when it goes to sleep? Imagine your whole body feeling like that. I was also feeling just plain sick. I felt tired, dizzy and didn’t have much energy. The only thing that made me more nervous and took more courage than asking Theresa out, was the thought of asking my step-father if I could borrow the car. But she was worth it, so I asked, and he agreed.

It was a big yellow 1966 Pontiac, and I drove around the block a couple of dozen times because I didn’t want to arrive forty-five minutes early.

I tried to look "cool" as I rang her doorbell. Her sister answered it and I said, "Is Theresa there?" She said, "Just a minute’, and ran into the kitchen giggling. I saw another head peeking out of the kitchen. There was more giggling and whispering and I overheard "He’s cute!" My head was feeling pretty hot at this point and I was getting dizzy. Then she came out, looking absolutely gorgeous.

I don’t remember much of that evening. I certainly didn’t have a clue about what the play was about. All I remember is driving, getting lost, feeling very tired, and trying to get up enough nerve to hold her hand. I finally did, but my hand was kind of limp and clammy.

At the end of the play, I couldn’t wait to get her home so I could get a goodnight kiss. It didn’t occur to me to try earlier. I didn’t say much all evening, and when I got her home, I asked her out again. She politely smiled and said, "I don’t think so." I got a quick goodnight kiss and I drove home.

For the next few days, I was still feeling dizzy and tired, and I went to the Doctor to check it out. After the examination, the Doctor asked me some strange questions. "Do you have a lot of girl-friends?", he asked? "No", I responded. "Well then"… he said, "Do you play musical instrument?" I said, "Yes", and he nodded his head knowingly and said, "Uh-huh… what do you play?" "The violin", I said.

He looked at me for a moment and then said, "You have a touch of mononucleosis. It’s something that socially active people get. It’s passed through saliva and you can get it if you share a musical instrument like a trumpet. They also call it the Kissing Disease." I smiled as I thought back to the party. "She was still worth it."

I phoned my mother and proudly reported, "Hey Mum! Guess what?… I have a social disease!






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Art Nefsky is internationally acclaimed as a singing/performance coach and is a specialist in eliminating stage fright and performance anxiety in performers and public speakers. He is author of the book, "Scaring Away Stage Fright" and as director of Showoffs Studio for Performers , holds weekly classes in his studio in Toronto as well as intensive weekend workshops across North America. His web site contains articles on building confidence and improving public performance as well as a "Stage Fright Clinic" that helps people overcome performance anxiety through personal consultation and correspondence.
http://www.showoffstudio.ca
art@showoffstudio.ca

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