We always had television, but I know my first shows were Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers! Already did the first kiss thing in another thread a few months ago, and I cannot reprint that story as it caused such a nostalgic reverie in me that I almost called him just to see how he was doing! So, I've chosen:
4. Your first dinner out with a girl/boy?
My first actual dinner DATE with a boy (I mean, I have a brother; that doesn't count) was a semi-blind date when I was 16. I had previously dated a slew of bad boys who ironically lacked their own trasnsportation (Unless you count their Huffy bicycles covered in Anarchy UK stickers...). My little brother went to a private boys school and I fell in lust with this very, very tall redheaded football player (Bro was in eighth grade, I was a sophomore, HottieBoomBatty was a senior...swoon!) named Chad. Our neighbor, who happened to play football, and was Chad's best friend, arranged the date. He picked me up in his mother's Lincoln Continental, and then we picked up a mutual friend and his date. We went to a movie (I don't remember what it was, but it was an indie flick that I found profound and moving and that he didn't get, which caused some friction...he wasn't too bright, but dang, he was so cute he could cause a pair of panties to disinegrate with a mere wink of his big blue eye), and then after the movie, we went to Olive Garden. Let's just say that he was a total dolt and leave it at that- he was so not-smart that I refused to make out with him on general principle. During dinner, he took his the meatballs from his spaghetti and a soft breadstick and fashioned an edible penis out of it. Then he laughed. A lot. Umm. Okay, next question.
5. The first time you drove a car? licensed or not
My father insisted that we learn how to drive early. I was eleven or twelve, and he took me to an abandoned parking lot in the station wagon that was to become mine (Gee, thanks, Dad- don't even give a girl a CHANCE to be cool!) to practice driving around the circular driveway, parking lot, and teach me to park the car without sideswiping others. He pointed to a tiny twig on the ground and said, "Now, don't hit that twig. I want you to park without touching it." I was like, oooookay, a twig? Dad, you're such a dork. So I park the car, and whoops, ran over the twig, and all at once, my father turns purple. This vein popped out in his forehead and he snarled, "YOU JUST RAN OVER A CHILD. GIVE ME THE G**D*** KEYS!" He scared the crap out of me, I started crying, he drove us home, and my mother yelled at him for being ridiculous and then took me shopping and out for Chinese. So it wasn't all bad. Plus, I get to rib him about it now, which I never miss an opportunity to do. You know what they say- bad moments make the best stories.
7. The first dance/party/prom. What did you wear?
Ah. This brings back painful memories. 14 years old. My first blind date (there were only two; this is the other one) was with yet ANOTHER private school boy from a chichi Uptown neighborhood (think antebellum mansions and Trust Fund From Grammy). We were to attend a dance in a swanky hotel ballroom, and I need something stunning to wear. My mother, who, God Bless Her, always ALWAYS meant well, was low on money. We went to a sort of generic brand swanky dress outlet, and I tried on black slip dress after black slip dress, looking for that whole Audrey Hepburn-knock-your-socks-off-subtle glamour thing. My mother nixed them all (too much cleavage, too tight in the butt, too short, Jesus-Kristi-I-Can-See-Your-Areola kind of thing). I was near tears in the dressing room and she called over the door, "Oh! I FOUND it! It's beautiful." And on and on. I lit up, swung the door open, and she was holding this blue monstrosity of a chiffon factory explosion over her body, looking dreamily into the mirror. My heart broke (my mom was really, REALLY poor when she was younger), and I knew that there was no way I could say no to this. It meant too much to her. So we bought it ($40 bucks! Woo!), I wore it, end of story. Almost. When the dates came to pick us up at my friend's house (she set the whole thing up), my date SNORTED. Of course, my friend was wearing a black slip dress. At the dance, we entered and turned heads...lots and lots of gleaming, highlighted, stick-straight locks swishing around, pink glossed mouths opening in horror...an army of black slipdresses attached to beautiful doll heads all staring at me in my Pouf From The Depths of Hell. I still have pictures. Oh, I have indigestion now. I need some TUMS.
8. The first time you made out/petted/watched the submarine races...you know.
I was going to answer this, but have decided to leave a bit of mystery here. Besides, it's embarrassing, and I've been far too forthcoming already. ;>) Someone else's turn.