Virgin

I was in my late twenties, the first time I went to a meeting of an astrology club. I did it because I was new in the city and wanted to meet people. I was pretty apprehensive about it. I don’t like groups in general. I don’t fare well in them for about a hundred reasons, but I decided to clutch it up and go anyway.

I had been on to astrology since I was eight years old, but I had been in a vacuum. Outside of my family, conversations on the subject were scarce and when they occurred they were very surface type stuff. Sun signs.

In comparison, my sister and I sounded like this at the time:

“Brrrrrinnnnnnnnng! Brinnnnnnnnnnng!”

“What?” she’d answer.

“It’s me. New man.”

“It’s not another Leo rising is it?”

“Er… Yeah.”

“Fuck you, Elsa. He’s a Scorpio, right? Like I even have to ask.”

She’d yell to her husband. “Hey! Gimmie a cigarette. Elsa has another sucker on her hook. We’re going to dissect this guy.”

Back on the phone with me, “Okay, go ahead. Where’s the new sucker’s Moon? And where is his Mars and how fucked up is it? Wait a second. I have to get a cigarette…”

So anyway, I showed up at the meeting, at seven o’clock. I’ll never forget. I was dressed real snappy. It made me think of Paul Simon’s lines:

“The poor boy changes clothes and puts on after-shave
To compensate for his ordinary shoes…”

See, I didn’t know what I knew. I had no idea if I belonged in the meeting or not. I thought going to this meeting was akin to showing up at a university after being home-schooled for twenty years. Could I cut it? I’m not very fancy.

I grew up here –>

We used to call going to the grocery store, “going to town” so you might guess I was a little intimidated. Babe, Pig in the City. I was hoping they would let me in and stuff. Basically, I was scared to death.

I walked in, and paid my three bucks because I wasn’t a member. There were two women sitting at the table taking the cash and they both looked me over. Oh brother.

I don’t know what they were thinking, but I hoped I look okay. I sure as hell tried hard enough. I was a little over dressed. This was my style at the time. I was just off a Frito truck after almost ten years driving around in the middle of nowhere and I was wearing lots of short skirts, tights and pumps simply because I realized I could.

I also had the baby clock ticking, so I was constantly looking for sperm. Taj Mahal sings, “Many fish bite, if you got good bait…” I believed him.

Both women smiled wide, which increased my terror for reason non-specific. See, I thought I was going somewhere cool people go, but I’m not cool. I’m Elsa. These women were obviously cool. They were sitting at the table, weren’t they?

I walked in and people were mulling and chatting in small groups. Ack! This is what I hate! With my heart pounding, I had no idea how to break in anywhere, so I quickly took a seat three rows from the back and I sat there as neatly as I could. No doubt, with a queer smile plastered across my face.

To be continued…

skip to part two…