Chapter 10 - The Panty Raid

Once at college, I did my best to convince myself that Conrad was destined to be who I was, that Connie was an interesting phase in the life of a teenager. Nothing more than a phase…

It actually worked for a while. I made it to my Junior year without a single vestige of Connie anywhere but inside my head. I did my damnedest to be all-boy, scrupulously ignoring anything even faintly feminine. With all the new experiences at college it wasn't too hard, at least at first.

I was determined to leave Connie behind, but it was not the easiest of tasks. The liberal atmosphere at college, the anything-goes attitude of freshmen who suddenly can make their own decisions without a parent looking on, the excitement of 'The Pill' and the free-love movement, Hippies, anti-war protests, all of that mixed and swirled around me as I tried to convince myself that Connie was gone forever.

I couldn't bring myself to go out for any organized sports, but the college radio station drew me in. I spent many hours in the basement of Willits Hall, cataloging records in the station library. I was thrilled to be entrusted with the job of Record Librarian, never realizing that was the job that nobody else wanted and where they stuck some naive freshman each year.

The problem was that next door to the station in the basement of Willits Hall was the nascent LGBT club, which was very tentatively organized after the Stonewall Riots. You have to remember that being gay or lesbian was still actually illegal in that state, so it took some real courage to admit it. Actually, I can't remember if they even used those terms or if the gays and the lesbians separated themselves in the language at the time. I didn't even know the words 'transvestite' or 'crossdresser' back then, information in my little town was nonexistent.

I didn't know it back then, but my comfort in the feminine role had affected my behaviour as a male, the gay guys next door immediately recognized a fellow-traveler. My sexuality was confused as hell, but I didn't think I was gay, so I suppressed my desires and got on with life. At least that's what I thought I was doing.

I studied hard, hoping to follow in my father's footsteps. Well, that's what the fifties taught their children - men follow in their father's footsteps. My eventual goal was an MBA, maybe even to be a part of Dad's growing agency when I graduated. Other than the radio station, I didn't do much besides attend the occasional concert or play. Even though I was trying to be a man, I just couldn't get interested in the more "manly" opportunities on campus. My GPA was a 3.8 and I kept my nose clean. I hadn't worn a bra in two and a half years.

I tried to be proud of myself, but was I? I didn't want to answer that question.

Maybe it was a harbinger of Global Warming, maybe it was just a freak of nature, but the weather went crazy in early February of my junior year. The temperature hit 65° on Thursday and the snow started melting. On Friday it got up to 79° and the campus went nuts. In the Northeast, college campuses tend to go berserk on the first warm weekend of the spring (even if it wasn't really spring) after having a passel of hormone-charged young men and women confined to quarters for months on end. It was Scott and Craig (last names redacted to protect the guilty, even after all these years) who decided our floor should stage a panty raid on the girl's dorm.

Now the panty raid had gone out of fashion by the time I went to college, in fact, back in 1961 the University of Mississippi had actually expelled three students for their part in a panty raid. Add to that the nascent feminist movement and some things get consigned to the dust bin of history.

However, on that particular night a certain quantity of (strictly forbidden) alcohol had made it's way around the floor, and I have to admit a certain quantity of that alcohol had made it's way into my stomach. In other words, I was more suggestible than usual and when Scott and Craig (who had a lot more than a certain quantity of alcohol in their stomachs) proposed a panty raid to a bunch of drunken, horny college men the motion was carried unanimously.

This particular drunken, horny college man, having refrained from wearing a panty or bra for two and a half years, had a distinctly different agenda for what should be done with those panties.

The raid was a great success, possibly because the owners of the panties were very cooperative and thought it was a fine idea. Scott and Craig having made sure the alcohol came with us as an inducement to gain entry to the girl's dorm had no little influence on our warm reception.

In my inebriated state my defenses were down. Quite a few of the girls had decided that the pack of horny, drunken boys should be greeted with them less than fully clothed. After all, how were these innocent girls to know they would be so rudely invaded while they were changing their clothes?

Yeah, right. There was as much illicit alcohol floating around the girl's dorm as there was in our dorm. Spring was in the air, let it all hang out was the popular byword, and I can tell you some of those girls hung out very noticeably, especially Cilla Carter who had removed her bra. She had a long time living that one down when she sobered up.

While I certainly enjoyed the show, all those bras and panties utterly destroyed my resolve to forget Connie. I was gifted with a pair of pale yellow panties by a grinning girl wearing a blue bra and red bikini panties.

Be still my beating heart!

We returned to our dorm jubilant and even drunker, and it was communally decided that the panties must be displayed hanging from the windows of our dorm room to advertise our success. As much as I wanted to wear them, I went along with the consensus. Maybe tomorrow….