I was in grade 12 in high school when I started to reach the height of my popularity among a circle of Jewish girls who seemed to know of me.   In this circle I had a certain cachet, which I could not understand at the time.  But I think it came down to this.  I was tall and not unpleasant to look at.  I did very well in school.  My parents were immigrants from Poland and had survived the Holocaust.  I spoke Yiddish.   My father was known as an active socialist back in the old country and he was in the shmatte business.   All the girls came from backgrounds similar to mine.  For them and their parents, these traits thus made me eminently eligible to serve as an escort at a wedding dance or Bar Mitzvah and I went to a number of them in this way.
 

One of the girls was slender with horn rimmed glasses, a slightly sharpish nose and big hair, in keeping with the style of the time.  She had a wide mouth, an open, friendly and gentle manner and, what really turned me on, a soft low voice.
 

I was just learning how to talk to girls.   It was still difficult for me.  I did not really know how to flirt and was often tongue tied.  To make things more challenging, I had no car, so we had to be driven by her parents or if we went to a movie, we had to take the bus and subway.
 

 She was very kind and made tremendous efforts to put me at my ease; she herself was calm and relaxed when we talked but on the formal dates, fortunately, we spent most of our time dancing.
 

Or getting and eating fruit and cakes from the sweet table. 
 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked me.  “You seem so quiet.”
 

“Oh, I am having a great time.  It’s just that most of the time the music is so loud, I can’t hear myself, let alone anyone else.”
 

“I see you like the sweet table,” she observed.
 

“MMMph,” I replied, my mouth full of cake.
 

We walked back to our table and sat with other young teens. 
 

“Tell me about yourself,” she said.
 

“What would you like to know?”  I asked taking a bite of some pineapple.
 

“What do you like to do?  What are your hobbies?  What are your favourite subjects at school.”
 

“I do well in all subjects and don’t have a real favourite.  I am on the basketball team, the senior band, the science club and sometimes I do things with the French club.  I don’t really do much else except watch television and once in a blue moon, go to the movies.”  I nibbled at a cookie and sipped some coffee.
 

She smiled broadly as if I had given her something really important.
 

“What programs do you like?  Do you have a favourite kind of movie?  Hey, maybe we could go to one or you could come over to my place and we could watch some TV.”
 

I turned to answer as I was about to take a bite out of a cup cake when my stomach now started to rebel.  My intestines started to twist into knots and I had a terrible urge to fart.
 

I closed all the sphincters in my body tightly.  Unconsciously, I pursed my mouth in a small “o” as if I was about to speak French.
 

She started to have a concerned look on her face.
 

“Are you all right?” she asked.  “You look pale.”
 

The cramp passed and I smiled, “Fine, I’m fine,” I said.  “Just getting a little warm.”  I wiped the sweat from by brow and now looked at her to answer.  As I spoke, my answer was now punctuated by extra stress on syllables where I felt another intestinal pain.
 

“I’d LOVE to go to a MOvie with YOU.   When could we GO?  HOW about NEXT week?”
 

“That would be great.  We could go see Lawrence of Arabia, that is, if you haven’t seen it yet.”
 

“Not yet.”  I smiled and closed my mouth tightly.
 

 “Oh, that’s so great.  Call me during the week and we’ll make the plans.  Listen, they’re playing a Hora.  Do you want to dance?”
 

The thought of jumping about and shaking up my kishkes did not appeal to me, so I said, “sure, but you’ll have to excuse me for a sec.   Get up and dance.  I’ll join in when I get back.”
 

I got up quickly and headed for the bathroom.  When she looked away, I broke into a trot and then as I rounded the corner, I dashed to the bathroom, jumped in…and saw three elderly gentlemen talking in Yiddish at the urinals.   I smiled and held my sphincters slammed shut.
 

When they were finished their business, they lingered at the sinks.  Finally, when they left, I went in to a cubicle, closed the door and let out all the gas that had been building in my gut in one giant explosion.  My sigh of relief was very loud.  It sounded like I had just had an orgasm.

As I stepped out of the cubicle, you probably already know, I saw three of the guys who had been sitting at our table looking at me as if I had just descended from Mars.   Then they burst into howls of laughter.   I was mortified. 
 

I quickly washed my hands and returned to the table where I found my date.  She was sitting at the table after the hora and looked at me smiling. 
 

“It’s too bad you took so long.  The dance ended.  But there’s more coming up.”
 

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the guys coming back to the table with their dates.
 

I grabbed my date’s hand and said, “Hey, let’s dance some more.   I pulled her out onto the dance floor.  “But the music hasn’t started yet,” she objected.   “We’ll be ready for it when comes on then,” I replied
 

She came and said, “I haven’t seen you this enthusiastic all night.”  Then, as the music came on, “Let’s rock and roll.” 
 

I managed to keep her from sitting down all evening.  When it was time to go, I went with her and her parents to their car.   As we were walking, holding hands, I felt another tremendous cramp building.  What if I ended up sitting in the car with all of them in this state?
 

“You know, on crisp clear evenings like this, sometimes, I just love to run,” I said, dropped her hand and ran the 100 yards to the car where I turned and faced her and her parents and let out as much gas as quietly and quickly as I could.
 

I had a big smile on my face when they reached me.
 

She smiled at me in return.  “You’re such a funny guy,” she said.  “You’re unpredictable, sometimes quiet, sometimes a dancing fiend, sometimes a laid back talker and sometimes so full of boundless energy.”
 

She reached up and kissed me and squeezed my hand.
 

“You know,” I said, “it’s such a great night.  I’ll walk to the bus and take it straight to the subway.  It won’t take me long.”
 

I said goodbye to all of them and then with another kiss, took off running down the street, farting as I went, my speed increased by this rocket action.
 

I think she was admiring my physical energy after dancing all evening.   I owed the whole success of this date to her kindness and to the inspiration I received from what are known in Yiddish as “Tsedreyte kishkes”.