Kim was never to be mine, except in my fantasies. But she was an
important step in my socialization. Because those fantasies, now
readily shared with my male friends around campfires and at sleep overs,
became an increasingly important bond between us in the years to come.
As my interest in sports and other mainstream pursuits waned, my conversations
and relationships with other males revolved primarily around our individual
quests for the perfect woman.
I remember one camp out in particular, a weekend at Scott Lake. The
sixth grade boys stayed up until the proverbial wee hours of the morning,
throwing logs on the campfire. We talked about sex, what little we
knew about it, and about the girls we liked. I said I liked Kim because
she was “bouncy,” a reference to her precocious development. The
other boys agreed with my appraisal and admired my way with words.
“Bouncy!”
chuckled Peter Kissinger. “That’s pretty good.”
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