Your April Fool

The Spring sun cut slyly through the mini-blinds, a voyeur before the internet made voyeurism a public pastime. It was an April Fools Day sun falling on the greatest April Fool of them all.

I did not look at a calender that morning. I knew it was 1991. I knew I was 17 years old. I knew that something needed to happen and what day it was really didn’t matter to me. In retrospect, I should’ve taken a look at a day planner or something.

Each April Fools Day since that spring afternoon, I have taken a moment to reflect on my folly. What, indeed, was I thinking? It would be like England deciding on July 4th that it was a good time to pay those Yankee bastards back for that American Revolution thing.

It was a moment that defines a man. It was my first baseball glove, receiving touchdown, and drag race all wrapped in one. And much like who made the glove (Rawlings), who I scored the touchdown against (Ozark High), or what I was driving during the race (1973 Cougar), the partner in that day’s crime (a foul-mouthed poet named Amy) is more just a matter of record and less important than the moment itself. That sounds crass, but there is a certain amount of history that marriage requires we don’t relate.

Here we reach the point is this little tale where I must make a decision. Common sense dictates a quick mention of the event. Creative juices beg a detailed accounting. Fortunately, I feel a certain degree of sensiblity today.

I lost my virginity on April Fools Day.

Looking back, there was probably no way I could’ve waited any longer. Spring is a dangerous time for high school hormones and there wasn’t much more than a thin layer of denim seperating me from the the population of Willard High School. Nevertheless, April Fools day was an unfortunate choice and probably set up a lifetime of intimate pranks for my already humorous male form.

I feel I squandered a lot of potential by not waiting for another day. Just imagine what a force I could’ve been had I chosen something like Columbus Day (ah, the great discoverer!), Thanksgiving Day (no, thank YOU), or George Washington’s birthday (you can’t get anything for a buck these days). But, I picked a day for pranksters. Still, more than a decade later, I am surprised that the foul-mouthed poet didn’t look up in to my swimming eyes and say, “April Fools!”

I would like to end this little missive by saying “April Fools! I actually lost my virginity on Bastille Day.” However, I am an honest man (and a man I am), and the only fool around these parts is yours truly.