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Kelsey

David Nelson Hilliard

    I met Kelsey, known as Corky, when I was a junior in high school. I don’t know why she preferred Corky. She was staying with an uncle because of her mother’s death, and her cousin was one of my friends. Soon after I met her, we were an item. For whatever reason, it happened quickly and easily. At that time, my tastes were very unrefined – someone who was interested in me and who had large breasts was just what I wanted. I encouraged her to wear her peasant blouses which showed off massive cleavage. She had large everything. Her response was “More of me to love”. She had to explain another expression “Too wet to plow” because of my insufficient understanding of female anatomy. I later found out that she had hair in usual places, and thin hair on her head but that did not deter me. She may have had more testosterone than I.
    Her cousin suggested she wouldn’t be the best possible girlfriend, but I had few promiscuous and brilliant super models lined up as alternatives.
    We didn’t go on many traditional dates, but mostly made out in my parked car. She regularly got me off orally, but I didn’t return the favor. I don’t know how that affected her. I didn’t care at the time, but we had really gross displays of public displays of affection. We would lay on each other, sometimes dry humping. Not counting birth it was the first time that I touched a vagina. Another time she was caught at the end of a party with her hands in my pants. She would baby talk to me.
    The one time I had planned to go for real sex, we were hurrying for my parent’s empty house and got stopped for speeding. I got off with a warning, but it bothered me enough to abandon my plans for seduction. She may have been ready, maybe not. On the plus side of missing intercourse, I didn’t have condoms, I didn’t know if she was on birth control and I was completely unprepared to be a father.
    Our senior year she stayed with relatives somewhere else. I had been faithful, even sappy. I put mushy stuff on my notebooks with her name, but there were rumors that she had played around while out of state.
    We had a special day at the turn of a decade. I was young enough that it was only my second and the first that I remembered.
    I went to college locally and was kept busy with studies, so I suggested (and here is the incomprehensible part) that she have platonic dates to keep her busy. After awhile she had a new boyfriend, a shoe salesman. They played COD (catch on delivery), a breast grabbing game played while driving.
    While this was going, on I was distraught and tried everything that I could think of to get her back. I would force kisses on her and while driving hold her hand over my dick.
    The shoe salesman didn’t win. A third guy did. She was really taken with a song “I Want To Marry Jerry”, that had the name of her future husband in the title. My mother, who thought that she was trying to trap me, had suggested that she was in a hurry to get married, so I offered that, but was rejected. Her new boyfriend was Catholic, so she needed to convert. I tried to convince her that was hypocritical and was not consistent with our perverted (by some standard) activities.
    Although broken hearted at the time, long term it was a good thing for me.
    While trying to win her back, I loaned her money for nursing school. After I was completely out of the picture, her new man showed up on my door step with the money and a note, “Here You Are, You Sack Of Shit”.
    Have I made it sound like I was the good guy? I definitely was not. When I thought that she wouldn’t look around, I took her for granted. I blew up at her at a party for no good reason. She didn’t get the sexual satisfaction that I got. I was a very poor loser and tried to use the loan as leverage.
    Arbitrarily, I read obituaries with pictures attached. Recently, I happened to read the obituary of her husband, because the obituary had his picture. It mentioned their two children and how he met Kelsey, but didn’t have any other information about her. Before that I’d only heard scant news about her a couple of times from a relative. Although, I had subsequently wandered about the country, I ended up just 7.2 miles and 16 minutes by car from where she lives.
    I wrote a condolence letter to her saying I’d like to talk. I hoped to heal some old wounds, and apologize for my behavior. Later when I called her, she had no knowledge of the letter. Her response was hostile and irritated, reasonably enough. She could see no reason that a long ago affair was any justification to contact her. She was still grieving and cried at one point, but also laughed at something silly I said. Given her understandable attitude, I gave up on seeing her or asking what would have seemed like impertinent questions, so much of this memoir is built on my frequently mistaken memory. I did find out that she had a son working in my town with the same occupation as her late husband. She had a little interest in my history, which was a surprise and despite her claim that our affair was unimportant, she did remember exactly how long ago it had happened. Although I had a slightly different take on the break up, she said that I “pushed her away”, but it turned out well for her.
    “Janine” in Down In The Dirt Magazine is the memoir of the next girlfriend and the only other serious one before my marriage, so “Kelsey” is the end of a very short series. All of the names and even the song in here have been changed.

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