Dry humping...a past time best left in the 80's

The other night Mark thought he'd relive one of the highlights from his youth. He made himself a Bovril drink. As he was mixing it up he regaled stories of drinking hot Bovril on cold Winter mornings with thick slices of freshly baked bread.

He took a huge glug of nostalgia and then spat the nostalgia across the kitchen! "Geez it tasted so much better back then!" he said.

Yup, some things are best left in our youth. Trying to relive them literally leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Growing up in the 80's I have so many memories, most accompanied by a brilliant 80's track. Like the first time I got drunk. 'Blister in the Sun' was in full blast. The first time I made out with a 'serious' boyfriend Boyz II Men crooning in the background. My 'just dumped and I'll never love again' song was Wham's 'Last Christmas'.

I, I mean my friend, took her first illegal substance while Siouxsie and her banshees filled the air at The Doors nightclub and some high energy dance track made my ears bleed on my one and only visit to Caesar's in Braamfontein.

I got angsty with The Smiths, dark with Robert Smith and turned goth with The Damned' and Wayne Hussey from The Mission. I argued with my dad that there was no way Pete Burns from Dead or Alive was gay and Talking Heads got me through long nights of studying on my Walkman.

Even now if I hear a song from way back when I'm immediately transported to a time that seemed so perfect..and then I remember the ugly side of the 80's. Things best left on paper, in a photograph, in a time capsule, never to be uncovered by anyone. Ever!

Like my Robert Smith hairdo. Which I used sugar water to keep upright. I couldn't understand why my hair was grey or why bees didn't leave me alone.

My enormous boobs, the bane (and occasional blessing) of my life. They got me loads of attention, sometimes wanted, other times not. Most of my fashion faux pas' were because I was trying to hide my cups which were running over.

Dry humping. Definitely best left on a couch in my mom's house. There is nothing attractive or satisfying about the act. And those darn zippers from those Ronald Sassoon jeans left scars that have stayed with me well into my adult years.

Practicing kissing on a mirror. Oh yes, we all did it.

Boobs nightclub. Remember it? I think I went once and after being asked if I was their mascot (abundant bosoms) I never went back again.

Bubble skirts. Then, like now, I look like a mushroom in a bubble skirt.

Thinz. Used to lose weight and dance the night away.

Love letters from weird and wonderful relationships that lasted an hour, a day, maybe a week. Mainly from boys in the army. One arrived that had my dad wanting to get me to a nunnery. On the front of the envelope, my address, on the back, instead of 'SWAK', was 'pink panties turn me on...do you?'

I still have flash backs of flashers who
made my days of catching busses a interesting experience, to say the least. There was the guy who sat at the bus stop in his short post man issued shorts with a newspaper strategically placed on his lap. He'd flap the page to get your attention and when you looked, there peeking from under his shorts was his throbbing member, a la 50 Shades of Grey (or black and white).

Diane. Not the princess. The contraceptive. I clearly didn't need it then and don't need it now.

Anything leather or suede with tassles. Anywhere! Madonna 'hook' skirts, break dance pants, cut off tees, headbands and Xanadu.

Using a hair brush, hot brush or hair dryer as a microphone while singing aforementioned break up song into full length mirror.

Sandwich spread, monster munch crisps and fish paste.

Yup, some things are better left in the past, on the dark corners of the grubby night clubs at the dinner table of ye olde matric dance or on the couch of dry humping!

Melinda