How Do I Know What I Think Until I See What I Say?

When I was in high school, some friends and I would often go to the underage clubs in Milwaukee. I don't remember any of the names specifically, but there were two or three of them. We would get dressed up in old black clothes (I remember with particular fondness a black velvet jacket I had, and a number of white shirts with lace ruffles) and put on dark eye makeup and dance until we could hardly stand. I suppose we were proto-goths, although we called ourselves New Romantics, after the British bands we listened to. It was at this club that I met Myke and his friends. They were older, edgier, cooler than we were, and they were city kids, unlike me and my friends. It didn't occur to me at the time to ask why Myke, who was 22, would be interested in a 16 year old girl like me, although, in hindsight, Myke wasn't the most mature guy I've ever dated. Perhaps we were evenly matched. Anyway, Myke and I started dating and one night, I went out with him and his friends,