Remembering Girls In Angwin, CA

One of the ways I classify places is whether or not I ever made it there.

I only ever made it in LA, Sacramento, Orlando, Vancouver, Las Vegas and Big Sur (beside a cliff overlooking the ocean underneath a loving sun).

I never did it in Australia. Never got further than a hearty kiss and some gentle fondling above the belt.

I just reconnected with an old acquaintance from Pacific Union College Elementary School — Rod. He was in the grade below me. He played quarterback. Like me, he had a smart mouth.

I just posted on his Facebook: “Dude, did you get laid in Angwin? I felt like I was the only one who never did… SDA girls were goody girls as far as I found. I was a virgin until I was 22… You were always precocious, playing quarterback…slick with the girls. How old were you when you lost it?”

An old friend responds: “”Luke…the girls weren’t goody girls…they were just smart!!”

I never did anything naughty with a Seventh-Day Adventist girl. I never did anything naughty until I was 22.

(Rod did it first when he was 15.)

The closest to naughty I ever got was the summer of 1983 when a bunch of us got in the hot tub one Shabbos afternoon. There was a girl with us in a bikini (my age, we’d all known her for years). And about five guys.

And we started rough-housing and pretending to pull off her clothes. Things got rowdy. And she was screaming. I don’t think she was traumatized, she was just playing along. This was the only way you were allowed to touch outside of marriage in the Adventist world, it had to be some kind of accidental game. She wasn’t physically lashing out at us. We were just teasing her. And suddenly my hand brushed against a few strands of her generous pubic hair and I got really frightened and we all stopped messing around and returned to our sober observance of the Holy Sabbath.

The owner of the home, a pastor, got fired in a sex scandal a few years later.

Growing up Seventh-Day Adventist, about the only way I could touch girls was with violence. We’d play keepaway games in the pool. Each guy would pair up with his girl. And then it would be guys against the girls. And we’d toss the ball back and forth. But it was all an excuse for us to feel each other up in the PUC pool.

But I was pretty awkward. I got pretty violent and competitive with the girls. I remember the guys would tell to calm down and just use the opportunities to feel her up.

I was about 16 or 17 before I could just make-out with a girl. Prior to this, I only got to touch them while rough-housing.

Around age 11, I decided that I would dedicate my life to getting laid. This did not pay off for another 11 years but at least I had a goal.

During those years, I thought that touching girls was the greatest thing on earth. I was so desperate for affection and so grateful but mixed up when it came. I was awkward. I was rough. I was frightened. I often felt like a social outcast, that I’d have to totally transform myself to get a foxy chick. I was always going on these kicks to transform myself so I could land a foxy chick.

Come to think of it, I’m still doing this. I’m going to become a teacher of Alexander Technique. That should really impress the ladies. The money and applause will just flow in.

The first time I fell passionate in love was the summer before 11th grade. My girl was Lorraine aka “Rainy” (she was a year or two below me in school, we both loved Barry Manilow). We used to go to the PUC pool on many afternoons and were quite affectionate (though I was frightened to kiss her that first summer), rubbing in liberal quantities of suntan lotion on the other’s soft skin, much to the amusement of the older folks around. My friends called her “Action Jackson” because of our innocent antics (she was a sweet innocent girl). I was known as “Hans Ford” because I tried to look like a guy who knew how to feel up a girl.

The summer before 12th grade, I finally kissed her. French-kissed her. Long, slow kisses, just the perfect kisses for a summer’s day. She had soft full cheeks and I loved to pinch them. I felt like a grown-up. We’d walk through the woods around PUC and hold hands.

I once got her back to the home where I was staying. I finally got her into my room. I finally got her on to my bed. And then I tried to take off her clothes. She wouldn’t let me. She kept saying, “I’m not that kind of girl.”

Once in the PUC pool, I was frolicking with Rainy, when this little black boy popped up and said to me, “Why is your penis sticking out like a lance?”

I’ve never been so embarrassed.

Rainy let out a scream and swam away.

I dunked the little black boy and swam after her, trying to talk my way out of my embarrassment.

About Luke Ford

I've written five books (see My work has been noted in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and 60 Minutes. I teach Alexander Technique in Beverly Hills (
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