Young Peeping Toms

I was 12 years old, in 7th grade. When I traded bedrooms with my older sister a few years before, my mom assured me that the bedroom was decorated for a girl my age, whereas my sister’s new room (my old one) was to be re-done for a teenager.

The room was really cute — my mom is great at decorating, among other things. One of the features was “Priscillas”, the kind of curtains that are pulled back on the sides, like this.

My window in the back of the house was a double window, so the area that was uncovered by anything was pretty large. After my initial objection to having dark, uncovered windows at night, I got used to it and actually found that those dark windows made excellent mirrors!

I would watch my own performances when I put on music and danced (often trying to be sexy, natch), while I practiced football cheers (I wasn’t a cheerleader, but all Texas girls know some cheers), and while I changed clothes.

A boy named Danny lived in the house behind us. I didn’t know him very well, even though we were about the same age. And I had no idea that his bedroom window actually faced mine. His house was one story and my bedroom was on the second floor. There was a little copse in front of his house and behind mine that made his house seem very far away and separate.

Well, it wasn’t.

One night, I had a slumber party with some friends. It was a pleasant spring evening, and we had the windows open. A little after dusk, one of the girls heard something outside. Of course, we all screamed — young girls love to scream! — and then we tried to investigate, looking out my big double window in the back and the single window on the side.

Sure enough, two neighbor boys were outside the side window! Eeeek! Yes, more screaming.

The boys walked around to the back and we shouted down at them: What are you doing? Why are you out there? Go away! [scream, scream]

One of the girls hollered to my mom, “Miss Louise! Danny and Bobby are outside Daphne’s room, watching us!”

My mom came in, dropped the curtains closed and spoke to us in a soothing voice — and begged us to stop screaming. After that, she probably went outside and snatched those boys bald-headed and then reported them to their own mothers, but I don’t remember that.

What I do remember is what Bobby said when we girls yelled at them for spying on us: “Danny watches Daphne all the time!” Danny immediately bruised Bobby’s ribs with his elbow. “Shhh!” he hissed. Now that I had discovered his dirty little secret, he knew his peepshow was over.

With the curtains and windows safely closed, my friends asked me, “What did he see? Have you undressed in here???”

Alas. I had indeed undressed. And so much more. With my lifelong love of performing, I suppose I had a touch of exhibitionism in me, but I was ashamed all the same.

Now, you may be asking, who cares about a little girl of only 12 years? And the answer is, a little boy of only 12 years. Besides, I had developed early. Not full-grown-woman early, but I had some bits and pieces.

I haven’t seen Danny in many years, and his partner-in-crime has sadly passed away in those years. Maybe Danny has shared this story with his buddies, his sons, his grandsons. Or maybe he kept it to himself. Nothing I can do about it now. Fortunately, being in my 50s has given me a powerful DGAF, and I wield it mercilessly.