Hey Kids, Have Lots of Sex -- It's What Your Parents Did at Your Age

Yesterday, NPR sounded the alarm that "hooking up" is replacing "dating" for college students and twentysomethings and that this is very bad.

What is this "dating culture" of which they speak, that some long for, even in college? We didn't have it in the '70s, not really. Yo, NPR, I was there.

Then, as now, college was an environment where you were surrounded by peers, single, all coming of age, reaching or reaching for adulthood, exploring their sexuality.

Kids today -- meaning precocious high-schoolers, college students and twentysomethings -- hang out, go to dance parties, clubs and bars … drink, dance, try to meet people to whom they're sexually interested, and hook up, which might include fucking.

We -- meaning old people who went to high school and college in the 1970s -- hung out, went to mixers, clubs and bars … drank, tried to meet people to whom we were sexually attracted in order to make out, and sometimes fuck. You see the difference? Not a lot, huh? "Hook up" equals "make out." "Party" equals "mixer." Except that mixers had some sort of official sanction. So did drinking. But we also went to clubs with live bands, or DJs, in groups.

So we're the same, other than that, we had no Internet, no cell phones. Creepy, huh?

On average, young people today have sex for the first time at about the same age as we older folk did … at 17 or so. They have sex about as often as we did. This dating of which NPR speaks -- it was not necessarily a prelude to sex or even making out, but more practice in being a grownup. You can do it any time. I dated in high school mostly because I didn't really have a social circle to hang with, so I'd ask a girl out. It was odd, even then. Dating took place mostly for artificial social events. Think prom. Think homecoming.

I remember dates in high school. Mary Lynne -- do you remember my mom drove us to see Jesus Christ Superstar? We were 14. I helped you baby-sit. We taught each other to kiss and hung out by the pool all summer before starting high school.  Leslie, we saw Loggins and Messina from the third row. We also went to homecoming. By Christmas, you dumped me for an older guy with no warning. Thirty-five years later, on Facebook, we do not speak about this. Marla, we went to the Don McLean concert. I didn't think you liked me "that way." What did I know at 17? Bye, bye … and 30 years later, we're best of friends.

Gwen, we saw Elton John, circa Yellow Brick Road, and were blown away by Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding. Lorna … where did I take you, Lorna, on a Friday night in our senior year … Lorna whom I'd had a paralyzing crush on since we were lab partners in chemistry as sophomores? I don't remember where we went. I remember my pride in having the nerve to ask you out. I remember my astonishment that you said yes. I did not feel compelled to ask you out again. One date expunged two years of teenage angst.

Who did I take to see Springsteen? I don't recall. Betsy -- I know we saw No, No, Nanette; a classy evening. Pam … ahhh, Pam. We smooched a little in the car on the way back from drinking in West Virginia. I wasn't your type, but I was smitten anyway. We were on a triple date, in a car that Detroit has not manufactured since our youth -- the huge family station wagon, the precursor of the minivan. Flora … where did we go, Flora? Did we go to the Springsteen show? I don't think so. That, too, might have been Gwen. Here I am 52 years old, and I am worried that somewhere, someone would be mad at me for not remembering she was there as my date that night in Pittsburgh in 1973 at the Syria Mosque, months before Born to Run made Bruce famous.