Back in my college fraternity days, I did any number of really stupid things I now wish I hadn’t. One which I was recently reminded of was a blind double-date I went on with Lippy (not his real name, of course), who was not only a fellow frat brother but also one of my best friends at that time. He picked me up at the fraternity house just before dark on a warm Saturday night, and it started out so innocently.
Lippy, who was seated behind the steering wheel of his brand new 1967 Chevy Malibu, arched his back and strained his neck to get a better look at his handsome face in the rearview mirror. After he carefully ran his comb through his long blond hair, he began methodically inspecting his teeth for anything his toothbrush might have missed.
“Come on, Lippy,” I finally pleaded, “we’re going to be late, and at least tell me their names.”
“Okay, okay, their names are Carol and Debbie. They’re cousins and I met them at a party last weekend. Debbie is yours.”
“So, what does she look like?”
“Who cares man, this is just a trial run.”
“Trial run?” I asked. “Trail run for what?”
“I want you to look down there and tell me what you see,” said Lippy with a devilish smile, pointing down below the car radio. “Go on. Check it out.”
“I don’t see anything,” I said, after a quick glance down at where he was pointing.
“Excellent,” said Lippy proudly. “Now bend on down there and take yourself a really good look.”
“But why?”
“Just do it.”
On closer examination, I discovered a thin black cord tacked down to the carpet. The cord originated from underneath the driver’s seat and at the end of it, secured to the underbelly of the car radio, was a microphone. “You’ve bugged your own car?”
“And all I have to do to turn it on is push this little button under my seat. See?” He gave me a quick demonstration.
“But why?” I asked.
“Man, how many bucks do you think we’ve wasted over the years taking out girls we couldn’t even get to kiss us when the night was over? Well, starting tonight, that’s all going to change. We’re finally going to have something a guy really needs nowadays, the inside information.”
We picked up Carol and Debbie and took them to the old Starlite drive-in theater. We had hardly pulled into our space when Lippy slyly reached down, activated his hidden tape recorder, and announced that he and I were going to go to the bathroom.
“Already?” asked Carol, a little surprised.
“Yep,” said Lippy as he quickly climbed out of the car and motioned for me to do likewise. “We won’t be gone long though,” he said, “and we’ll bring you guys’ back lots of good stuff to eat and drink.”
As we leisurely strolled up and down the hilly asphalt on our way to the snack bar, Lippy smiled and said, “We’ll give them at least fifteen minutes, okay? Think about it, man. Two girls who know each other really well, left all alone to shoot the breeze. I bet they’re spilling their guts right this very minute! And we’re going to hear every single word of it. Maybe we’ll find out if they want to jump our bones or who knows, maybe your Debbie likes me, and my Carol likes you. Believe me, this is going to be like having money in the bank.”
“You’re sick, Lippy, you know that don’t you?”
“Ain’t it the truth!” he said as he laughed and pounded me on the shoulder.
When we finally returned to the car loaded down with cokes and popcorn, Lippy very casually reached down and turned off the recorder and announced that he had an early golf T-time the next morning and that we probably wouldn’t be able to stay for the second feature. When the girls didn’t seem to be the least bit disappointed, I began to worry.
A few hours later, after we had dropped Carol and Debbie off, Lippy eagerly dragged out his tape recorder, rewound its contents, and gleefully pushed the play button. “Now”, said Lippy with conviction, “We’re going to get to find out if we really want to go out with these girls again.”
The first thing we learned about Carol and Debbie was that they knew a lot of cuss words. Since neither of them had uttered a single profanity the whole night (at least while we were in the car) this came as quite a shock. The real surprises, however, were still to come, and here are just a few of them, without the very colorful language, of course.
“For some reason, I thought Lippy was a lot cuter than he is,” said Carol. “I must have been really drunk at that party when we met. And what is that God awful cologne he’s wearing? I don’t know about you, but I swear, I’m just about ready to barf!”
“I wish I’d known that Daryl is so skinny?” said Debbie, her voice full of disappointment. “You know I can’t stand scrawny guys with no butt.”
“What if Lippy tries to kiss me?” Carol asked her friend with disgust in her voice. “If he does, I swear, I’m going to barf!”
“Did you see that big old ugly mole on Daryl’s face, right next to his nose?” asked Debbie. “He looks like Abraham Lincoln.”
“I know”, said Carol. “Moles on a guy’s face make me want to barf.”
And so it went, one demoralizing put-down after another, none of which I’ve ever forgotten, but most of which, thank heavens, can’t be reproduced here. “Well, Lippy,” I finally managed to say after about ten minutes of pure torture, “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve heard enough.”
“Me too,” reluctantly agreed Lippy, as he turned off the tape recorder and admitted that the whole thing was a pretty dumb idea.
“Just don’t be telling anyone about this, Lippy, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise, Abe.”