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I wasnt necessarily afraid of girls

Time:2018-10-01 06:15Shoes websites Click:

Women respect taught Upbringing Kisonas

I wasn’t necessarily afraid of girls, but they did scare me, Ray said in his column this week.

I’m fairly certain a girl from high school isn’t going to come forward from almost 40 years ago and accuse me of inappropriate behavior. Not because I was a perfect gentlemen, but if I ever did anything wrong, the girls in my school would simply beat me up.

Not only that, but I would later have to face the wrath of two older sisters and a Polish mother with arms like a Russian weightlifter that were bulked up from years of rolling dough and cranking an old-fashioned meat grinder for kielbasa. I had no chance.

I wasn’t necessarily afraid of girls, but they did scare me. Sure, my dad was a big influence, but he worked midnights and our time together was minimal.

Instead the house was dominated by my mother and sisters who were years older and controlled everything from the TV shows to music. Using the bathroom was a privilege.

Growing up, I had no choice but to show respect for girls or face dire consequences. Not only was the home run by women, but when I went to school it was almost like a military base operated by nuns. Sure there was a priest, but he rarely visited the school — probably stayed away because of fear.

During our eighth-grade dance, I stood around awkwardly staring at my Earth shoes covered by bell bottoms. When I finally got the courage to dance with a girl, I was thrilled to be close to a member of the opposite sex who wasn’t related to me. Then I looked across the gym and there peeking through the window from the outside was my mother.

I think I was a junior in high school the first time I asked a girl on a date. And I didn’t even ask her. I asked a friend to ask her for me. And when the girl brought up the date, I almost threw up on her locker. We’re still friends to this day.

Of course, things were different when I hung out with the guys. I nodded and smiled and bragged as if I knew what they were talking about.

The first time a girl ever came to my house for a visit during my senior year, it was the social event of the summer for my mother.

She wanted to know everything about this person as if she were grooming her to be a daughter-in-law.

I’m surprised she didn’t analyze the poor girl’s hips to make sure they were worthy of bearing her grandchildren.

While they talked and talked in the kitchen, I watched TV in the next room. They became fast friends. The next time the girl came over, she asked me if my mother was home.

Finally in college, I found some freedom with the ladies.

One morning after a particularly festive freshman party, there was a knock on the door of my dorm room. I stumbled out of bed and opened the door to the smiling faces of my oldest sister and my mother. Then they looked inside the room and the wrath was upon me once more. And I didn’t even have anyone else in there with me.

Contact Ray Kisonas at rayk@monroenews.com or 240-5778.

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