A boy becomes a man

[Barry G]

A Boy becomes a Man

Young people always seem to have the idea that they invented sex. They didn’t. Sex has been going on for yonks. Back when I was a young man in the 1950s, Friday evenings during the winter months were reserved for dancing classes. Young ladies from nearby grammar schools were bussed into our School Hall to provide partners for we young bloods to learn one of the essential social graces, namely ballroom dancing. The tuition and the weekly practice nights all led up to the annual school dance. The girls in their dresses lined up on one side of the hall and the boys lined up on the other. The boy resplendent in school uniform always chose the girl and never did the girl get the opportunity to choose her partner. She merely got to reject a potential suitor. That was the way it worked in those days.

For the boy, just to daydream during a boring lecture of the forthcoming Friday night class gave rise to ardent anticipation. The waltz, the foxtrot and the quickstep all involve putting one’s arms around a young nubile wench and holding her tight. Expressed more realistically it was an excuse for a lad to clutch a young buxom lady to one’s chest whilst rubbing his thigh against her thigh. All this bodily contact was done to the subtle beat of the music. A boy could feel the girl’s breath on his neck and smell her sweet perfume. (Dancing in the ‘60s, without bodily contact, some two feet apart, was a clearly retrograde step).

The British in the 1950s were in the process of recovering from the excesses and loose morality of the wartime years. For this reason, there were strict moral codes about anything remotely associated with sex. Even thinking about doing it was in principle immoral and certainly actually doing it before marriage was risking one’s mortal soul. Remember that in the Post War 1950s the birth control pill had not been invented; vasectomies were procedures of the future and to buy condoms one had to go into a chemist and ask, out loud for the assistant to get a ‘pack of three’ from the locked cupboard behind the counter. The alternative source of supply was by mail order in which case they arrived loose in a box. Mother would take them from the postman, open the packaging and in that way discover that Sonny was up to something. The cat would come out of the bag. Unprotected sex could have dire repercussions. Religion was an all powerful force in those days and the Church preached forcibly that you should save yourself for marriage. So to be able in public to press yourself against a young female was a unique and potentially orgasmic opportunity for a young heterosexual male.

For 5th & 6th formers, Friday nights could indeed be a testing experience. To the rhythmic beat of the music, testosterone surged through the veins and gave rise to embarrassing and powerful emotions which were expressed by and large in the groin area. It was, and still is, Mother Nature‘s way of keeping the planet populated. Remarkably many of the girls seemed to delight in the effect they had upon us boys. Nowadays it’s all taken for granted that girls like sex as much as boys but in those days sex was a male thing or so we young lads were led to believe. Young ladies were expected to say no. After all The Devil was always and still is always portrayed as a man. Young and innocent girls were not to be taken advantage of by rapacious young men. For a boy to succumb to sexual temptation was to display a disgraceful lack of self control. Getting caught at it on school premises would have resulted in expulsion. But of course forbidden fruit always tastes sweet.

From those delightful evenings over half a century ago, two young damsels come to my mind. The first was Yasmin, a very attractive, amply endowed young lady whose parents came from somewhere in Asia. She was gorgeous with soft light brown skin, long black hair and a very winning, indeed submissive, smile. I was seriously smitten. She smelt of the exotic East and her skin was indeed very soft to the touch. After the evening of dance practice, for I was subjected mercilessly to ribbing for promoting East/West relationships not only by my mates but also by the father of one of my mates. In the 50s racial integration was frowned upon by all classes of society. Sadly after a few weeks I succumbed to the remorseless teasing and I rather abruptly transferred my attentions to a statuesque blond, whose name I have long forgotten, from the local high school for girls. To my undying shame the young oriental lady looked very sad when I pointedly ignored her for no apparent reason. Needless to say, the ribbing by my mates didn’t stop just because I‘d changed my dancing partner.


As a teenager I was quite good looking with a full head of long jet black hair, a slim muscular figure and a winning smile. The trouble was, I was long sighted and mostly I needed to wear glasses to see clearly. Those spectacles I had to do without in times of extreme vanity ie dancing classes. My downfall came when I met a mousie blonde who should also have always worn her glasses for she was short sighted. So here was a situation where a young over sexed male who, without his specs, couldn’t see too well things close up, met with a young over sexed female, who also, for reasons of vanity, couldn’t see things too well at a distance. Still we felt our way around albeit mostly in the dark with the inevitable but disastrous results. One night at the annual school dance, up in the music room, hidden away from the maddening crowd, things got out of hand. There’s no doubt that the events of that evening changed for ever the course of my life and arguably not for the better. The life of the mousie blonde was also changed irreversibly but not once during the years that followed did I ever get around to asking her whether she should have kept her glasses on.

So what’s my clearest memory of six years of schooling, undoubtedly that evening up in the music room. The short sighted mousie blonde with the ample figure and a compliant smile taught me as much about life as any of my tutors. Luckily the incident was never recorded on my school report. However I remember that night still, it was the night I became a man.

[Lagrange]

I enjoyed it.
It was well written and easy to visualize.

[EmmChris]

Nice story. Well written.

[Earlybird]

Also being a boy from the fifties I found this captivating and very nicely written. It liberated my imagination and memories while leading me from paragraph to paragraph anxious for the conclusion. I especially liked your commentary on the loss for us young men regarding the separation of the sexes by the beat of 60’s music. Too cute.

P. S. I’m dying to know what happened that night (other than the obvious) that forever changed the course of your life.

[Daniel J]

I enjoyed it; this bit made me laugh:

a young nubile wench and holding her tight

. I'm not sure why. I think it could be the phrasing 'nubile wench' which I've heard from many 50's and 60's children.

[Barry G]

Thank you for your comments, they help me to understand which style of my writing appeals to the readers of this Forum, most of whom I suspect are young by my standards. I was born in 1938 which certainly makes me one of the oldest contributors.

When posting an article here, I am not so much looking for a full critique rather a two or three line comment as to what appeals in my writing and equally what is lost on the reader. There are very few young people in my life and those who do have a place in it are not usually given by me articles to read.

If I seek a full technical critique for a piece then I can pass a copy over to my neighbour who is rather good at criticising. But he is of my age group so I can receive from him merely comment as to technique and even grammar but rarely does he comment on content or interest.

I accept that in the same way as I am not interested in the latest fashions, young people are not overly interested in the thoughts of someone of my generation. However if I am ever to try to publish any of my writing by whatever means available to me, then I must have a feeling for the minds of all levels of the audience. If I can acquire some hint of how my writing is received then I can better adapt my style accordingly.

I read your comments with interest, all I ask is that you be candid in your overall impression.

[Barry G]

"nubile wench" = comely, buxom, available, approachable, attractive, warm, friendly, pretty, sexy, happy, personable, desireable, boisterous, giggly. As wont to dream about.

I have just thought of one adjective which would sum such a creature up in one word, but it is not polite to write it down on this thread.