She was a virgin when we married. Of course, this was a time just before the sexual revolution that decreed that virginity was something to be fixed as quickly as possible. Today, young girls are actually ashamed of their hymens and are teased by their peers of they are thought to be virgins.
In 1959 I was a twenty-two year-old second class petty officer in the US Navy stationed at the Glenn L. Martin Aircraft plant in Middle River, Maryland, on the outskirts of Baltimore. I was temporarily assigned, along with about fifteen other Navy aviation types, to test fly, and accept into the Navy inventory, eight reconfigured C-121 aircraft. The aircraft were originally Lockheed hurricane hunters. The birds were known in civilian airline service as the Super Constellation passenger airliners. It was the workhorse of the trans-oceanic flight routes in the fifties and sixties. The jet and turbo fan airliners were just making an appearance to force the piston avgas prop planes out of service.
It was Christmas, 1959, and there was a major glitch on the reconfiguration work on the planes, so the decision-makers decided to allow, for those who wanted, to take Christmas leave from late December ‘59 to a week following New Years. I came to this assignment directly from 18 months on Guam so I decided to go home and live like a civilian for at least a few weeks. I knew my parents would be happy to have me home and I could rekindle some old high school friendships.
There was no special woman in my life. Hell, I had nobody, special or not. On Guam, I was air crew on the same aircraft we were reconfiguring, the Super Connie or the Navy designation, WV-2. After the reconfiguration, the planes new designation was WV-2Q or as they were nicknamed, the Willie-Victor two Q.
As aircrew I actually spent little time on Guam which was a boon for my sex life. The Guamanian girls were old school Catholics who were under threat of ex-communication if they even spoke to an American sailor, let alone screwed one. A few lucky island-bound single guys were able to provide sexual comfort to the willing Navy wives while their husbands were on deployment to Japan, Taiwan, and the sailor’s wet dream, Olongapo, P. I. (Philippine Islands). [Google it.] A lot of sixty and seventy year-olds vets have a web site that waxes nostalgic over the former sex drenched little town just outside the gate of the massive NAS Cubi Point air base. The married guys fucked the LBFMs (Little Brown Fucking Machines) in the P.I. while the sailors on Guam fucked their wives. It was kinda of an even balance in scheme of cheaters.
Back to Christmas in my home town in Southern Illinois. I was having a ball drinking beer, legally this time, and getting together with the friends that stayed on after high school instead of joining the Navy or going to college. There weren’t many, but luckily for me, one of my best buds, Duane, was home from grad school, so I had somebody to run the roads and chase pussy.
Duane’s parents lived in very large house on East highway 161 and Duane had the great idea of throwing a big New Year’s Eve party for the class of 55 and 56 still around. His parent’s house was perfect party place. No near neighbors to complain about the noise and enough rooms to sneak off for a little bumpity-bump or at least some stink-finger. We called everybody in town that we knew and asked them to pass the word about the party.
One glitch almost shut the party down. Duane’s parents, for unknown reasons, rescinded permission to have the party at their house. (They weren’t stupid.) Fortunately, my parents gave their permission to party at their house. They weren’t stupid either, just more understanding and knowing that not much in their house was valuable if something got broken. The fact my boyhood home was about one third the size of the original venue was a negative, but not an insurmountable one
The party was a smashing success. A couple of drunks threw up the bathroom and a few girls got screwed in my parent’s bed, but all in all it was great. The party was so good it was a life changing event for me. One of the guests who heard about the party and just showed up was MaryAnn Knox. She was a year ahead of me in school, class of ‘54, so I didn’t know her very well. She was active in the various organizations and clubs and was very popular. She was not a great beauty, and her body shape wasn’t the cheerleader model. She was rather tall, and sturdy, about 5’ 9”, about 145 lbs., but since I was 6’ 1” and180 lbs., we made a good couple visually. Her strong point was a fantastic personality. There wasn’t a mean bone in her body, and because of a problematic childhood with a mother who, while not an open prostitute, was known as a “good time girl” who could be found at the local nightclubs and bars most Friday and Saturday nights. MaryAnn was definitely not a spoiled brat. Her father was undetermined, and in a practical sense could be any one of her mother’s the multiple “male friends”. MaryAnn’s large number of aunts and uncles made for a loving childhood even if the situation wasn’t a stable nuclear family. Her grandmother was married at 15 and had 9 children. MaryAnn had one uncle that was more of a brother being only 2 years older than her.
I was impressed by the way MaryAnn organized the remaining semi-sober party goers to clean up the house before they left. That helped me a lot and in gratitude I asked her to have breakfast with me.
We sat in a booth at the local greasy spoon 24 hour diner, there were no MacDonald’s in 1960, and talked long after the sun came up. She told me her life was not in a good place. There was no money in her extended family for college and no jobs in our home town for a 23 year-old female. She was visiting her grandmother for the holidays and was currently living with her mother in Oak Park, IL, a Chicago suburb, and working as a telephone operator. In 1960, you could still dial “0” and speak to a real person to get a number or make a long distant call. I wasn’t due back in Baltimore until Jan 7, and MaryAnn figured out how to stay in town until then. We were inseparable for the next week, except for sleeping.
Now, dear Reader, this would be a good time to put a paragraph or two of steamy sex and descriptions of how I taught my new girlfriend some mind-blowing oriental sex tricks. No, no, no. Remember, this is before the sexual revolution and nice girls didn’t give it up before the wedding. After many long talks, we agreed the best and only thing for us to do is get married. In retrospect, that decision was not the best for either of us, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time (cliché).
As a second-class Petty Officer I was entitled to a housing and subsistence allowance or housing in lieu of the allowance. My orders were to proceed to Atsugi, Japan when we finished accepting the eight WV-2Q electronic warfare Super Connies. Four planes were going to VQ-2 electronic warfare squadron in Morocco and four were going to VQ-1 at NAS Atsugi, Japan.
Looking back on this period in our life with the benefit of maturity, we were in love with the idea of getting married and living in Japan and were not that much in love with each other. MaryAnn was getting away from a dead end job with no prospects to improve her life and I was going to solve a problem that was worrying me. Namely, I had the choice of living in the barracks for two years, or setting up housekeeping with a bar girl in tiny Japanese house. I was in love with the ideal of living in a rather nice Navy housing and having a “respectable” life. I was counting on falling in love with MaryAnn after the marriage. I guess that didn’t work out too well.