In 1984 America was swept up in Olympics fever. It seemed that the whole country was wearing Red, White, and Blue including my twelve year old self. I also begged my Mom for swim lessons. I was strangely drawn to the Men’s Olympic swim team. For some queer reason.
At our community pool on my first day of swim lessons I met Rick, the boys swim instructor. He came to class everyday in a red, white, and blue Speedo and matching mirrored sunglasses. His tanned washboard abs was oddly enticing for a twelve year old pasty white farm boy. But at my young age I knew well enough to always ask for extra help with my stroke. Rick would help me by using he’s enormous hands against my fish belly white stomach guiding my arms as he watched my form. We clearly were in love.
Several weeks ago Dalton and I were getting back into my car after lunch. For some reason I had laid my Ray-Bans on the driver’s seat instead in the sexy car holder. CRUNCH! As my tookus smashed them to bits. My brain immediately went to Rick, how we broke up over his glasses.
I hate buying new sunglasses, it must stem from Rick and the pool. I have over the last five weeks bought or tried to buy a half dozen pairs of glasses. Last night was another episode. Trying on pair after pair. What I’m really looking for is a pair of red, white, and blue mirrored glasses with an Olympic symbol in the side.
*Creepy! I found the exact glasses online for sale here.