Bunk beds and romance.

I was so excited to be home with our son. I just knew that everything would be ok now. We were a family and life would be as I had pictured it, perfect.

I wanted the story-book life and I was foolish enough to believe that you can have that.

Anyway, this is also where we met Pam and her fiancé Bob. I thought they were so cool, the perfect couple. They lived in the apartment next to ours, and we became fast friends. These cool friends would play an interesting roll in our lives years later.

I didn’t realize until much later that the person that I thought was “just so nice” was a very manipulative woman who always got what she wanted; at any cost.

It was interesting living there, to say the least.

The woman who lived above us was old and very cranky. She spoke broken English, and she kept calling the superintendent on us saying we had a cement mixer in the living room that we were running all night long. I kid you not. I have no idea what this woman was hearing; we never heard anything. Not even my husband was that nuts.

One evening the superintendent came to our door and asked if she could bring the woman through our apartment to show her that we did not have any equipment that would make a noise like she stated she heard every night.

This did not satisfy her. We had shelves that divided the living room and the dining room. These shelves consisted of boards set on cinder blocks. It fit into our style, didn’t cost much and it was functional.

When they left, the superintendent called to let us know that she was satisfied that we weren’t building anything in our living room, but the woman was now convinced that we were throwing the cinder blocks around at night. She was a nut too. I should have moved up stairs to her apartment and let her live with my Gary.

Several weeks later it was our turn. We called the super on her. She was sneaking out of the apartment in the middle of the night, making a great deal of noise, while trying to skip out on her rent. Gottcha!!!!

Our relationship with our new-found friends was moving along just fine. They were fun to be around and tended to have parties on the weekends. I am embarrassed to say that I would go next door to their apartment for the party, while Shayne was in our apartment sleeping. I would check on him often, but the fact that I left him alone at all still haunts me.

It’s funny, whenever there was a party and I would leave to check on Shayne, not one person expressed concern or shock that I would leave a baby in the next apartment alone. This is the group of people that I wanted so much to fit in with.

Life for us had it's ups and downs. Gary as working steadily and that was a good thing. His temper had it's ebbs and tides that came with no rhyme nor reason. You just never knew.

It was in our apartment that he broke my beautiful gift from Maggie and also my glass owl cookie jar from my aunt. I loved that jar, which is why he smashed it I guess.

Whenever he got like that, I always ran for my chime clock that my dad had given me when he retired. I just couldn't have let him smash that too. Not that.

Between the mixed bag of friends that we had and Gary’s personality is it any wonder that any of us are alive today. The things that this rag-tag group did boggles my mind to this day.

I was just as bad, I went along for the ride.

Cheating seemed to be the norm for my new-found female friends. It seemed that Gary was the only male that was stepping out. Figures, while all my girl friends were out screwing around and having the time of their lives, I was home playing Suzie homemaker with a dirt bag husband who thought fidelity was a dirty word.

I do have to hand it to one of my friends for the way she handled her infidelity, and situations where any normal person would have gotten caught.

This particular friend was our cool neighbor. To my knowledge, she didn’t cheat when they lived in the apartments while she was. I believe it all started after the wedding, when they moved into their new home. Beautiful, wait until you swear your solemn vows and then screw around.

Gary and I were in their wedding. We wore lovely; brown fake fur muffs and little pill-box fake fur hats. As far as the dresses went, we were supposed to make our own. I don’t know how to sew, and if memory serves me correctly, I waited until the week of the wedding to ask my mom and I believe my sister Susan for help in making it.

The dress got made, along with the hat and muff. I looked like a large, molting bear Grizzly.

Our group of friends knew how to party, and that is what we did, all the time on the weekends. Drugs were the name of the game. We were at a party at their home one evening and low and behold there was no cocaine to be found… God, how can we enjoy ourselves now? This party was going to suck for sure. It didn’t matter that there was enough booze and beer flowing to cater to a party of 50 people, let alone the fifteen that were actually there.

Well, if you have a package of diet pill capsules and you are my husband, you will find a way. He opened the capsules and snorted it like cocaine. It did absolutely nothing but it made him feel like he was experiencing something. (DO NOT TRY THIS, IT IS NOT SAFE).

At this point in my life I had decided that pot, cocaine and acid were not something that I wanted to be doing. I had sworn off all drugs and decided that beer was my drug of choice. I had seen too much the first year of marriage; I had had enough. It got to the point for my friends where if there weren’t drugs at the party, there was no reason to party. Uppers, downers, cocaine, Quaaludes; you name it, my friends did it. It scared the hell out of me.

It just wasn’t cool anymore. I missed the days when all our parties consisted of was beer and if we were lucky, a bottle of Jack Daniels. If you over did it, you threw up, end of story.

Have you ever been to a party and you were the only one not high or stoned? It is not a pretty sight.

It didn’t matter what drug it was, if it was available, he did it. It was difficult to know sometimes if he was going to be up or down. It all depended on the color of the little pill he took. It was a roller coaster life that most of my friends enjoyed.


It is at one of these parties that Gary asked me if he could sleep with Pam. He felt that her husband didn’t appreciate her, even though they were newlyweds, and he needed to teach him a lesson by sleeping with her; thus letting him know what he was missing.

Of course, I had to think about this one. I finally said no, which caused a huge argument between us. I was called every name in the book for being such a selfish bitch. Again I was reminded that it wasn’t cheating or about the sex if he was doing it to help someone.

I stuck to my guns on this one. I don’t know why he felt he needed my permission on this, he hadn’t asked me to sleep with the heart-broken girl on the beach, why ask now? I don’t know if he followed through on his idea. I don’t want to know, even now.

Well, during the next year or so, this lady had several one-night stands. Her business, I realize that, but it is how she got out of being caught one night that sticks in my mind.

She had gone out shopping and ended up coming home at around 2:00am. I think that might raise suspicions in your husband’s mind, don’t you think? She was good though, I have to give her that. When she arrived home, before he had a chance to confront her, she burst into tears and told him that she had been at the police station for the last several hours.

It seems that while driving down the road near our local K-Mart, the car in front of her threw a bag out of their car window into the wooded area on the side of the road. Being curious, she pulled over to see what they had discarded.

Low and behold, it was a baby in a bag; a little crying baby. Now, you simply cannot make up this shit. She told that to her husband and he believed her. Or so he said. She proceeded to tell him that she spent the following hours at the police station giving her statement.

I’m sorry, but if that were my spouse, I would, if nothing else, call the police station the next day to see if the child was ok.

Looking back at who I was at that point in my life, I hope to God that I wouldn’t have believed my husband if he spun that story at me.

Now, she also had a hickey from this tryst that she had that night. Problem you say? Not for her. She jumped into bed with her husband, proceeded to make love to him and gently persuaded his mouth to her neck, thus, the next morning she informed him that he had left the mark.

You have to search far and wide for friends of this caliber. Now, Gary, as you know, handled his infidelity differently. He would just tell me he had sex with someone else, or, bring them home for a tussle.

One of our other female friends kept an alphabetical list of her lovers. It was over 100 strong and still going. Every single couple that we hung out with are now divorced, which doesn’t shock me in the least. We were so reckless. We lived for the moment without regard for anything or anyone else. We expected life to be a constant party, which it was for a while.

I bailed out of the scene long before anyone else did. I just could not take it anymore. I had, at this point in my life a small child to take care of and sitting around snorting coke didn’t seem like the thing that I should be doing. That’s when most of my friends started to disappear out of my life.

I was hurt and confused at first, but thank God for small miracles’, don’t you think?
It wouldn’t be long before I was pregnant again. I had been using a form of birth control, but as luck would have it, it didn’t take. Of this I can only say that because of that “mishap” I was given a beautiful daughter, who I wouldn’t trade for anything or anyone, ever.

It was a difficult time for us, we didn’t have much money and Gary clearly had priorities other than his family, but our family and my friends thought our relationship was strong. But, I was thrilled as was my family. We always believed that things have a way of working our and they were always there for me.
Gary’s family on the other hand was not so happy. His sister didn’t speak to us for days, and only called a week later to apologize and explain that they just didn’t do things that way in her family. Every thing was planned.

My parents felt that with another child on the way, we needed a home of our own. They loaned us the down payment for our adorable two bedroom cottage and once again, I thought that my life would turn itself around and we would be the perfect family.

I loved our house, and Gary proceeded to furnish it for us. God help me….

I wish I still had that house. But, that was not to happen.
It had a nice living room, two small bedrooms, an eat-in kitchen and one bathroom. It was the perfect starter home for a family of our size.

The one oddity was that the back door was in our bedroom. It was a very small room by anyone’s standards, and Gary and I were not small people. Being the furniture guru that my husband was, he had the grand idea that instead of sleeping in a double bed that would take up most of the room, he would build us bunk beds.

Yup, bunk beds. The romance just oozed out of our marriage.

So, the building began. These were not your ordinary bunk beds mind you. Gary was a big man. He needed a lot of room so he could sit on the bottom bunk with relative comfort. He couldn’t sit up straight and tall, but he didn’t want to have to slouch much either.


Wait a minute, I certainly wasn’t a small woman by any stretch, and I was pregnant to boot; why did I have to get the top bunk? Why, because I was told I was getting the top. I was such a twit.


The room’s size made it necessary for the ladder to be at the foot of the beds, not on the side. So, being the submissive one in this marriage, I got to climb up the ladder, and once at the top, turn around so I would be on my back and push my way to the head of the bed. It was an acrobatic accomplishment to get up the ladder, make it to the head of the bed and under the covers, all the while trying to maneuver my belly from side to side while making the journey up the ladder.

Now, try to imagine yourself eight months pregnant, lying on your back with only inches separating you and the ceiling; a leg cramp comes and your initial reaction is to sit bolt right up in bed. This action causes you to smash your head on the ceiling, pushing you back down, all the while trying to point your toes towards your head to relieve the leg cramp that is making your calf muscles contort in ways that could earn you a position with the circus. To make matters worse, you have to pee.

Life just doesn’t get any better than that does it?

And Jesus Christ, don’t startle the man lying in the bed beneath you when he was sleeping. You could end up dead. He had an arsenal of weapons under his mattress; a gun, knives, and a machete; sleep tight babe.

Another wonderful experience I had with being on the top bunk was when I was six months pregnant with Brittany and got sun poisoning on my legs.

I had spent the day with my mother at the beach watching an air show. It was an overcast day and I didn’t realize that I could get a severe burn. My pasty white legs were purple. I should have gone to the hospital for treatment, but it just didn’t occur to me.

I was in such pain. Just to stand up sent electric shocks through my legs that made it almost impossible to walk more than a few feet at a time without sitting down to catch my breath from the pain.

The only thing that took any of the pain and heat away was Noxzema. I would spread it on about a half inch thick and then lay damp wash rags over them. Now, try to do that and then climb up a ladder, turn around on the top step without falling, and shimmy on your back to the head of the bed.

The pain was unbearable, there was Noxzema everywhere, and all my man could do was tell me to suck it up and maybe next time I wouldn’t let myself get so burned.

It didn’t dawn on me until this writing that he never offered the bottom bunk to me so I wouldn’t have to climb that ladder, pregnant, and with my legs so burned you could have cooked a meal on them.

Can you imagine the 911 call if I had gotten stuck up there. My stomach got very large when I was pregnant with Brittany, and with my legs in such pain, I could very easily have gotten stuck. I am sure that the look on the EMT’s faces would have been priceless? I think that they would have needed the Jaws of Life to get me off that bed.

My eyes were finally starting to open to who he really was. Have you ever heard the expression “dumb as a stump?” That was me all the way.

Brittany was born on a December evening, Gary at my side. She was perfect, just as Shayne had been. I was more experienced this time around, so when I went to the bathroom on the bedpan, and afterbirth came out, I didn’t call the nurse hysterical thinking that my uterus had fallen out.

When it was time to bring our child home, it would be my mom who came to the hospital for us.

It was at this point in our lives that things went from crazy to insane.

If the events that were to follow didn’t force me to grow up and take responsibility for myself and my children, than I didn’t deserve them anymore than he did.

Oh boy it's a boy

I’m not sure how I overcame the trauma of that honeymoon. It could have been worse though, I wasn’t overweight then like I am nowadays. My God if they strip searched me now it would have taken days. Naked, I resemble a bald, overweight shar-pei. They would have had to lay out markers so as not to go over the same area twice. Thank God for small favors.

But home we were safe and sound. Our little love nest was a modest house set behind the master house not three blocks from where my parents lived. That tuned out to be a Godsend. This is where I discovered one of my first quirks.

If Gary was home and I had to pee, if he wasn’t outside where he couldn’t hear me, I would go to my parent’s house. If I really had to go to the bathroom, regardless of where he was on the property, over to my parent’s house I would go. My parent’s home has four bathrooms, I would only use one.

Where this little idiosyncrasy came from, I have no idea. Still haunts me today to some degree.

Our life together as man and wife would be great. Not so, and it didn’t take long for my fantasy life to get demolished.

Gary was a truck driver, you know, those big trucks that haul cement blocks and the like. For those guys work usually begins at 5:00am. This meant for me the day started at 3:15am. As the dutiful wife it was my job to rise with the rooster, make pancakes, pork roll and eggs for my man.

It didn’t matter that I worked also, as long as the king was satisfied, life would be good.

Not knowing that I had a voice then made me the perfect candidate for the job really. I never put up a fight, never said no and never disagreed. It didn’t matter on many occasions he would eat his breakfast and announce he was sick and go back to bed, making me call his boss.

What a joy it is to get lectured at 4am by hubby’s boss because the truck is already loaded for him to leave the yard. I love my life.

With Gary all snug as a bug and satisfied with a full tummy, back in bed he goes. I, of course, am off to work on an empty stomach. This is just one more area where my brain damage is evident. Although I have no desire to eat at 3:30am, I never cooked anything for myself to eat when I was ready for breakfast.

Maybe I should have started up an all-night diner.

I think I need to explain a little bit about the décor of my new love nest. Let’s start in the bedroom. I had moved my four-poster double bed with me to our new home.

We loved to watch TV in bed, so he mounted the TV between the foot-board posts. The TV was about five feet above the ground so when you were lying in bed, your neck was at a comfortable position to watch. There was a problem with this design, because you had to sit up in bed, get out from under the blankets, and crawl to the end of the bed to change channels. That just would not do, and since remote controls weren’t that readily available then, an invention was on the verge of being born.

Gary came up with the ultimate solution. He glued dowels together and attached it to the channel changer. At the other end of this dowel rod, was a cross bar that you just had to turn in order to change the station. It looked ridiculous but it worked. Early remote control; who would have thought?

Moving on to the living room and you would find a plethora of tables, chairs and picture frames all made by Gary. I have to hand it to him, he did have an imagination.

We had a throne. The back was a good five and a half feet tall. It had a patch of orange shag carpet up the back and on the seat. Once you sat down, if you wanted to put your feet up, you just had to lean over and pull the foot rest out from under the chair, and there you have it, instant foot rest. It was one of the most uncomfortable chairs you could ever sit in, but it had its own style. So who cared if you were nearly crippled every time you got up from the chair?

Our coffee tables were made of spools. You know the large wooden spools that hold telephone wire and cable for large jobs. We had lots and lots of them. They were all different sizes, but they were all decorated the same. Rope around the top edge, all stained in Jacobean stain and all covered in polyurethane. We had them all over the house, and at the time, I just loved them. Who would know that years later the thought of a spool would send me into a panic mode of biblical proportions?

My life as a married woman was not exactly what I had expected, but I was married and that made me special with a social calendar that was getting fuller by the day. I was happy.

About three weeks after we were married, a good friend of mine was going to be married. I was to be a bridesmaid. After the church and reception, my husband and I got into a huge argument over what, I can’t remember, but it was horrible; he was screaming and cursing at me in front of everyone. We were at the bride’s home, a little cottage, for the party after the reception, very unconventional. Gary went into a rage about what a mistake it was to marry me and stated that he wanted a divorce. He continued to party with the guests and I was left sobbing in one of the bedrooms. I was an absolute mess. Being that humiliated, again, was almost more than I thought I could take.

Not surprising though, once again, I wasn’t angry with him. I was afraid he really would leave me. I was frightened of this man and I still wanted to stay married to him. I wonder what makes a relatively smart young woman put up with all that. I look back and I can’t imagine why I stayed, or more to the point, why I felt so helpless and I guess, just not worthy of being treated with kindness and respect. It just was not in me at the time. I was pretty pathetic.

We made up later that evening and it was back to normal; normal, not the word that I would use today to describe what we had, but normal for then.

We had seven weddings to go to or be in the year following our wedding and we fought at every wedding. It was just awful. Getting ready for your friend’s special day, just knowing that the shit is going to hit the fan sometime from now until the reception; it was inevitable.

I’m surprised that I don’t have a phobia about weddings. There’s still time…

Our first New Year’s Eve was fast approaching and our social calendar was filling up with parties and gatherings. I was so excited to be going out with my husband; I still couldn’t believe that I had a man. I loved the titles of husband and wife. I felt successful I guess belonging to someone.

Gary had friends to see and errands to run that morning, so I spent the day preparing for our first New Year’s as a couple.

This is when the little self confidence that I had really started to slip away.

I sat alone in our little house, all dressed up and feeling so special until he stumbled in at around 11:30pm, threw up and passed out on the bed. The next morning there would no apologies, not vows of it never happening again; he was furious with me for not waking him up so we could go to our parties.

What should I have done? I should have gone out when our plans were to start and enjoyed myself with our friends. I stayed home instead, feeling sorry for myself but unwilling and unable to do a damn thing about it.

I was pathetic and I didn’t even know it.

I can remember Gary coming home one day not long after that and telling me to shut my eyes, that he had a surprise for me. Can you imagine that I was afraid to shut my eyes for fear that the surprise was a hatchet or some other sharp object being plunged into me? I am not kidding you; I had a real fear of this man, my new husband.

What a great way to start a marriage.

Gary was a grab, push and throw person. That is not a good way to live. The surprise, thank the Lord, turned out to be a moped, not blunt force trauma. I absolutely loved it. I tooled around on my orange bike; complete with basket on the front to hold my belongings. Now, of course, Gary and I shared my new toy. That is what he rode when he was stoned or drunk.

I adored my little scooter. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t last too long either. After a night of drinking and God knows what else, Gary crashed into a tree, or fence….I don’t remember what he collided with, I do know that he came out of it bruised and pissed. My poor little orange bike was totaled. So much for that gift.

This was the man that I wanted to live with for the rest of my life; to have children with.

Have I mentioned yet that I was a twit?

Another misconception that I had about being newly married was that I assumed that my new husband would want to come right home from work so we could spend as much time together as we could; that’s what I wanted. Isn’t that what you did when you were a newlywed; gaze at each other while walking along the beach holding hands. Hell, I thought it did.

Wrong!!!!!!! Several times during the week, Gary and his truck-driver buddies would either stay at the plant and play cards, or worse yet, go to their friend’s house for cards, booze, and, I was sure, women.

When we were together, it was either partying with friends or partying with friends, yup, that’s what we did. I just don’t recall spending many quiet nights at home alone, enjoying each other’s company. That’s pretty sad if you think about it. Just married and no time for each other, just one more clue that eluded me., aren’t we surprised at that.

Even though we weren’t the ideal couple, I still wanted a child. Our friends had a baby and it looked so inviting to me, almost romantic. I had not given the matter any serious consideration really, and to make matters worse, it didn’t occur to me that I didn’t.

If there had been anyone in my family or group of friends that knew how my life was at home, they would have easily talked some sense in me and the decision to raise a family in my situation would have been nipped in the bud right then and there.

Unfortunately, I always put on a very optimistic front; that’s code for lying to everyone about my life. Everything was great, we couldn’t have been happier. Gary was the perfect husband.

This was one of the biggest decisions a person can make in their life and I didn’t even consider anything except for the fact that I wanted a child, my friends had a baby and I wanted one too. I wanted to be pregnant, and be a mother. It was all like some kind of game to me.

It was blatantly obvious that we were not ready financially or mentally. For Christ’s sakes, we had just gone through several fights where Gary had stated that he didn’t want to be married to me; that it was a huge mistake and I was ready to bring another human being into the mix.

All aboard the fantasy express!

This was the man I wanted children with. Again I say; it is amazing that I am still alive today.

I conceived Shayne in that little house and I was as happy as you would expect a first-time mother-to-be to be. For that matter, everyone was excited on both sides of the family. That in itself was a miracle.

Being pregnant didn’t change Gary’s erratic behavior. If anything, he got worse.

It wasn’t long after I had gotten pregnant that we moved from our little love nest to an apartment on the other side of town.

Surprisingly enough, we were asked to leave after our lease was up. Gary was just a bit to odd for their liking.

It was a large, one bedroom apartment and I loved it. It was there that we met a couple who would play a very lengthy and profound part in our lives. But again, that’s for later.

My friends at the bank had given me a really nice baby shower. I got such wonderful gifts. One of the best was a ceramic wall hanging that my friend Maggie had made for me. Maggie and I were co-workers; we worked together in the check department at the bank and I loved this woman. We would laugh our asses off at work to the point that we could barely answer the phone at times. We actually wet our pants once we laughed so hard. She was one of the funniest, smartest, sweetest women I had ever met.

On Friday nights when we had to work at the bank, we would take our dinner break together. Off we would go the Lobster Shanty Pub and order lobster rolls and beer. A lobster roll was chunks of lobster meat piled high on a roll with melted butter poured over it on a hard roll. Oh my God! Sex was never that good. We would sit there and have a few drinks and then go back to work. It was great.

Anyway, back to the shower….

You could see that she put a lot of thought and hard work into this gift; it was from her heart just for me. It was a hand-painted ceramic wall hanging with the letters of the alphabet, each in its own square with a picture to go along with the letter. I loved this present more than any other.

When Gary picked me up at work after my party, and helped me load the van with all our gifts, I was sure to tell him to be extra careful with that particular gift. It was very fragile and more important to me than any other. Maggie was older than me, almost the age of my parents, and I loved her like my own mother.

When we got home and started to bring our gifts into the house, he went on a rampage. I have no idea what started it, but it was terrible. He punched the tray to the highchair and broke that, and then as deliberate as you can be, picked up the wall hanging, looked me right in the face and let go. It smashed into 100’s of pieces. All I could do was stare at him. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

That statement alone should have given me reason to pause; everything he had done up to that point proved that he wasn’t stable and his temper could turn on a dime.

I am ashamed to say that I just went into the bedroom and cried. Do you see that this is a pattern with me? That is what I seemed to do best. Cry. When the one person on this earth who you should trust and be able to count on over all else deliberately hurts you, you cry.

He in turn went out to the local bar and had a ball.

I guess my feelings at that time, nine months pregnant and my emotions going all over the place, to have him do that with such callousness was almost too much, again.

You know, it’s funny, when I was very pregnant with Shayne, Gary went out one night, bored with sitting home with me, and he went to a local bar. He came home, covered in sand and all over his skin to boot. After asking him repeatedly why he had been on the beach without his clothes on, he informed me that he had met a woman at the bar who was very upset about a recent breakup with her boyfriend. They started talking and one thing led to another and they ended up on the beach having sex. He felt it was his duty as a human being to make her feel good about herself. It had nothing to do with his not loving me; it did have everything to do with his being a decent man who helped a young woman through a painful time.

He did not understand that I was very upset about this. Shit, he was doing the decent thing and all I could think about was myself. I can be so selfish sometimes.

Did I leave, nope?

It was my hope that our child’s birth would calm Gary down; make him more reliable and family oriented. That was not to be the case. If anything, our life became more unstable and volatile, again.

If I have learned anything from this it is that you absolutely cannot change who a person really is. People can only change when they themselves want it. Profound statement, I know. It took me way too long to realize this fact; something that I am sure most of the brain-functioning population already knew.

Who is worse, him for treating me so badly or me for staying? I think it’s a draw.

The time had come for me to have my child. My contractions started at about 4am and stayed steady and consistent when it was time for Gary to go to work. We couldn’t afford for him to take time off now, I would need him when I brought our child home.

I didn’t want to call my family yet because I didn’t know how long this was going to take. I was a very ignorant young pregnant woman so I called the next best. I called Maggie.

As I suspected, she came right over just in time to witness me grab the side of the kitchen table and fall to my knees in pain for the contraction that I was experiencing. That was that, she took me right to the hospital.

After what seemed like forever with nothing happening that should, I was hooked up to a drug that not only causes your labor to advance more quickly, it also caused you to, as Mom’s Mabley once said, pull your bottom lip up over your head if you want to experience childbirth.

I was in agony by the time Gary got there after work.

Our child was born at a little past 6pm and he was perfect.

I was an emotional mess but so happy that we had a healthy son.

Our families were called and all was good with the world.

When the hour came for parent’s, siblings and friends to leave the hospital, I found myself emotional and sad that they had to leave, but happy that I would have some alone time with Gary.

Well, Gary had other plans. He would not be staying; he would be going out to party with the bevy of lady friends of his that were there to wish us well. And party he did, he got arrested for driving under the influence, without a valid license, but was let go because he had just become a father.

The next day was a proud day for papa. He bragged to me about what a great evening he and the gang had and how he got arrested but was allowed to go because he had a son.

Great, bring in the band.

The following day we brought baby Shayne home to start what would prove to be nothing more than the beginning of the end of sanity as I had known it.

Strip searches and torture chambers do not a marriage make

Life after Donny was going to be like sailing on smooth, tranquil waters. There would be no more drama in my life. I was free from the madness, finally.

Oh silly silly me.

The mind can play tricks on you if you let it. Not only was the drama not over, the fun was just about to get started.

I like to think of it as leaving the fun house and going right to the house of horrors.

Gary had liked me for some time now. He knew that I was being mistreated and hurt, befriended me and was really very kind to me about it. Although he wanted to go out me, he knew I had to make that decision on my own.

Once my relationship with Donny was over, my friendship with Gary just kept growing, but we didn’t date right away.

I dated here and there, but Tuesday nights were for just Gary and I. Gary’s house was the party house. He informed all of our friends that no one could come over or call on Tuesday evenings. That was our time to be together; not as a couple, just friends.

Looking back, I didn’t handle that very well at all. He was well aware that I wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship, but I lead him on by going there for our little “date” without even knowing.

Going through life with blinders on is not the way to go.

As it turns out, my first intimate encounter with Gary was before we started to date. (This would prove to be a pattern for me; never say no. We wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings now would we?)

I had gone to his house one early morning to watch the sunrise. Back to his house and one thing led to another, and there you go.

As it turns out, Gary was a virgin too. If I had thought about it then, I could have started a collection.

Virgin number two; bagged. Good God….

Needless to say, we did start to date soon after that. Once again, I thought I had found true love. Albeit, I was afraid of Gary in some ways, that didn’t deter me one bit.

Why afraid? What a loaded question. Where do I even begin to try to describe this man’s many sides and personalities?

On the one hand, Gary wrote beautiful poetry, and was quite the gentleman; always complimenting me when I wore something different or tried something new with my hair.

But, as you know, we all have two hands and Gary’s other hand was very dark. It’s hard to put into words how frightened you can be of someone and still be in love with them.

It wouldn’t be until much later in my life that I would learn that I had the power all along to speak up, to leave or to challenge behavior that was beyond inappropriate.

Once again I have to wonder if I was subjected to large doses of radiation or lead as a child. There had to be some reason why I acted like I had received an unwanted lobotomy.

This relationship was proving to be more challenging than the one I had just gotten out of. No thought on leaving though, that would have been just too easy.
Lacking confidence, being naive and trusting absolutely everyone comes with a very heavy price tag. Life isn’t so generous as to give you a pass every time you let your feelings rule out over all else; common sense being one of them. You pay till you learn.

I have always told a very different story on the outside as opposed to what was on the inside. Everything is always fine, couldn’t be better. I think I thought that if I had admitted to being so wrong and gullible, that would have labeled me a failure. Or worse yet, have people laugh at me.

When Gary started to talk about marriage, instead of being put off and really afraid, I was thrilled. I was finally going to be someone’s wife. What could be better? Once we were married, he would change. My love for him would change him.
Maybe if I had been a stronger, more confident woman I could have helped him deal with the demons that most certainly lurked somewhere in his soul. Sound overly dramatic and theatrical; maybe but they were there none the less.

That was not to be the case, if anything, he got worse.

Ladies, when looking for a potential husband, or just a boyfriend for that matter, I have come up with a few rules that I feel we all must follow, even though with my first husband, I did not.

Warning Signs to Look for:
1. If your fiancé/boyfriend gets so into a movie, like Billy Jack, including wearing the hat and clothes, and carrying the stick, you should start to worry, especially if this lasts more than a month. Not a good sign. I know it might seem harmless, but it isn’t. You will see why later on.
2. If your intended is extremely thoughtful and caring, and out of nowhere puts his fist through the wall and tells you it could just have easily been your head - That is a clue that we all need to understand.
3. He offers to “be there for you and protect and keep you safe” if you want to try acid. Red lights should be going off at this time. Drugs and safe do not go hand in hand.
4. Spends the evening of his bachelor party with a girl who has a long stem rose tattooed on her breast and he tells you all they did was talk. And he insists that she be invited to the wedding. Run!
5. Mood swings that would put my menopausal moments to shame.

I am sorry to say that I did not listen to any of those warnings. I was in love and no matter what anyone said, I was going to marry this man and live a long and happy life together. Did I say live? That point was iffy.

Reasons to seek the advice of a divorce lawyer ASAP or at the very least, get the hell out.

1. If your husband asks if he can sleep with your girl friend because her husband doesn’t treat her right and he wants to show him what he is missing; call your lawyer. (This is true, and believe it or not, I had to think about this one for over a minute before giving my answer)
2. Drives 75 miles per hour straight at the inlet and slams on the breaks just in time, lovingly looks at you and says, “Maybe next time”. For those of you who don’t know what an inlet is let me explain. An inlet is a narrow body of water that connects, in our case, the ocean to the river. Huge rocks on both sides keep the water in. If you crash over these rocks you will plunge into the fast-moving waters of the inlet and most likely die.
3. Brings a stripper home and actually sleeps with her in the living room while I am in the bedroom.
4. Quits his job and gets you one.
5. Hurls furniture around like a Frisbee.
6. Takes drugs like they are vitamins.
7. Wants to use you as a human torch.

It took so much more than the above to leave him.

And have I mentioned that Gary was one big dude. He was 6’1”, broad shoulders, about 215 pounds and very strong.

On any given day I would come out of work and there would be a red rose on the front seat of my car, just because he loved me. That same night, he could go off in a rage about what was on TV. I think that there must have been a chemical imbalance going on there, but at that time in my life, I just thought he was moody, or that I had caused it some how.

As I mentioned earlier, he would write the most beautiful poetry one minute and the next minute go into a road rage that would make even the toughest of tough need to change their Depends. Things like this didn’t happen in my house growing up. Was this normal? My parents fought, certainly, but they never threw things or ever touched the other in anger.

It didn’t really occur to me that when my boyfriend went nuts over something that it wasn’t my fault in some way. There is something in my body that I can only describe as the Pathetic Gene. I have several Genes like that in my body. There must be, for me to have been just plain ridiculous about how I looked at life and people. Couldn’t just be plain stupidity, could it?

We didn’t date long. He proposed to me on the beach with a ring that belonged to his mother. It was beautiful. I was thrilled. My parents were not.

When I told my parents they were less than enthusiastic. They thought I was too young and that Gary was too unstable, and quite frankly too scary for their taste. I assured them that that was not the case; he was a perfectly normal guy. I never could lie well.

I told my dad that Gary wanted to talk to him, and all my dad could say was, “What, to ask for my permission?” I was like, “Yes dad.” It’s funny. I didn’t realize it then, but the reason my dad was so shocked was that Gary was so unorthodox that the formality of asking for my hand in marriage was just so ridiculous. But, he came over and asked for my hand in marriage and my dad said yes. What were his choices? Say no and chance losing his daughter?

What my dad didn’t realize was that his opinion meant a great deal to me and that if he had said no, I would have been very upset, hysterical for awhile also, but I would not have married him. I had, and still do for that matter, have a great respect for my parents. They have never steered me wrong. I know that sometimes parents and children don’t see eye to eye, but with this, my parent’s point of view made sense. It wasn’t just parental authority gone amuck. They had very valid points as to why it would be a mistake for me, a girl of twenty and very immature, to marry this man

As it turns out, they didn’t stop the marriage and I didn’t have the strength to, so, there was going to be a wedding.

Planning the wedding was fun. Well, unless you factor in that none of my friends or family wanted this marriage. They didn’t hate my fiancé, but they were afraid of him. When you act very irrational, that happens, you make people afraid. But I assured them that all was well and that we would be fine. I could change him. Is that the most stupid comment you have ever heard? I could change him. It doesn’t happen, ever. Sure, people change over the course of a marriage, but that is the natural flow of life. You cannot change someone from whom they are into someone that you want, especially if they don’t want the change or worse yet, don’t think they need to.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I loved this guy. It was the temper that I didn’t like. You know, I don’t even know if it was just the temper. He was not rational. You never knew what would set him off, and he could turn on a dime. He could also be in a rage with a smile on his face. Now, that’s scary. Jack Nicholson “Shining” scary. Here’s Gary!!!!!

So, we started to plan the wedding. We would be getting married in my church with our closest friends in attendance. It would be the perfect day.

My parents were not happy at all, but, not wanting to lose their daughter, they did the best they could to accept this and decided if you can’t beat them join them. So, the wedding plans were underway. It helped that my mom and dad really liked Gary’s mom. She was a great lady. Gary’s dad had died before we hooked up. His mom moved from the Bronx, or was it Brooklyn, to their summer home in Point Pleasant.

There went the party house.

I had met his dad just once. This man scared the hell out of me. I am sure he was a great guy, but very intimidating. Gary had always said that although he loved his father very much, he really had feared him most of his life.

The wedding was set for November 1976. I was just 20 years old. I absolutely cannot remember the exact date, can you believe that? Amazing. Anyway, the wedding day had arrived. I woke up that morning very excited, but very nervous. More than you would think a bride should be. It wasn’t the “Oh my God I am so excited nerves”, but the kind of nervousness that you get when you know you are doing something wrong and you just don’t know what to do about it.

After a morning of preparing ourselves, we were getting ready to head on over to the church and I felt the first pangs of panic. I did not want to do this. I didn’t think that my legs would get me down the stairs, let alone out of the house and into the car.

My dad and I drove to the church, we exit the car and I start to cry. Not just watery, teary eyes, I mean sobbing, and I can’t stop. I wore very little makeup then and it’s a good thing; I would have looked like a raccoon if I had mascara on. This my friends, is another sign that you should not be there. I wanted to go home. I wanted to stay in my room and not come out. I just wanted to hide and forget the whole thing. I should have told my dad right then and there to take me home. But I didn’t. I didn’t want my father to be mad at me. He had tried to tell me not to marry this man, but I wouldn’t listen. I basically forced them to spend all this money on a reception; so how could I ask them to call of the wedding, look him in the face and admit that they had been right all along?

My whole family was in there, all my aunts and uncles and cousins. And my mom, what would my mom have said? I didn’t have the heart to do it, or the nerve. So, I marched in that church and got married.

Looking back, I should have had more faith in my parents. They loved me very much and would have just taken me home and that would have been that. My parents loved me very much and although they would have been upset about the money, they would have been relieved that I had finally come to my senses and realized that what I was doing was a huge mistake.

Didn’t happen that way.

I have to say that the reception was fun. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, my sisters seemed to be partying heartily, and my parents were actually trying to relax.

My husband and his friends, of course, went outside during dinner and got stoned. You’ve got to love it.

Thus, the marriage begins.

Now, when you don’t have a lot of money, deciding on where to go on your honeymoon is not too difficult. Not wanting to fly was another very important factor in the decision.

We waited until after we were married to decide exactly where we wanted to go. We knew that we would be driving, and we only had two weeks off from work.

The final decision……. Niagara Falls. Not such a good idea in November/December. Hey, we knew what we were doing. What a bunch of assholes we were.

I had never before, to my recollection driven through Buffalo NY. As luck would have it, we hit a blizzard. It was great. You simply could not see in front of the windshield, period. No visibility. Snowfall for the month of November that year was over 31 inches. It is not natural how much snow falls in Buffalo NY. Being from New Jersey, we were just not prepared. But guess what, my husband loved it, just another thrill to experience. I was told to loosen up and enjoy the ride. There were literally accidents happening all around us. I was sure we would be experiencing our deaths. This man was a nut. But I loved him and that was that.

Canada here we come!

I believe that we went through customs leaving NY, and entering Canada. I just don’t remember. I would assume we did, because I know for certainty that we did when we left Canada.

Well, the newlyweds checked into their hotel. It is on a hill and the view was beautiful. Now, how many of you have been in Canada in December? It is freezing and it snows a lot. Our van did not like the ice that covered the hill that we were on; so on the one night we decided to go to dinner dressed in our formal ware, we walked. I kid you not. I am in a floor length dress with heals; big fat clunky heals, but heals no less. There was snow and ice on the ground, it was freezing, and we are walking. We must have looked like the biggest bunch of buffoons around. Cold does not describe it.

We made it, unscathed but freezing.

It is much easier to walk to dinner than home from dinner. Drinks, full stomach, and there we go, trekking through the frozen tundra back to the Holiday Inn. It wasn’t that it was so far, but it was freezing outside with a sheet of ice and snow on everything. I am surprised we didn’t break our necks.

We spent our days going to every single wax museum that there was. Back in 1976 there were a lot them, or that’s how I remember it anyway. Very scary, bizarre and unsettling, to say the least. We saw every exhibit there was on murderers, torture chambers, witch hunts, etc. You name the horror, we saw it. No cafes or quaint pubs for us, no we wanted the gore. I had nightmares every night. It was ridiculous. No wonder I didn’t want sex. All I could think of was limbs being hacked off and women being murdered. Talk about romance.

Now, isn’t this the honeymoon of your dreams? I know you’re jealous.

One day we decided to go back to the NY side. There is a bridge and a sightseeing deck on the other side that we just had to experience.

Off we go. We went through customs in Canada and in NY. We were great. Young honeymooners. What could we be hiding?

God if I had known what was to transpire all too soon I would have sacrificed myself to the waterfall gods. It would have been quicker.

On the NY side there was a boardwalk path that you could follow to the edge so you could get a closer look at the tons of water flowing over the falls.

The spray of the falls is intense. Now, what does spray do when it is below zero degrees outside? Right, it freezes. This walk was so slippery. I am surprised that it was open to the public. We were the only people out there. I guess they assumed that no one would be foolish enough to venture out there. They had not met my husband. But, to experience life you must take risks as they say. The entire boardwalk was covered in ice. The branches on all of the trees had a good ¼ of ice on them. One slip and down you go. We were lucky to have gotten out of there alive. It was ridiculously dangerous. This adventure was the brainchild of a man who used to tie himself up to the railroad trestle, put weights in his clothes and walk along the bottom of the Manasquan River. Visibility, 2 inches, I am not kidding.

Mercifully, we made it back to Canada in one piece.

Now, before I got married, I was very sexually active. I am not bragging about this, merely making a point. Because I don’t think that we had sex during our honeymoon. This is another very large clue girls, especially if it is you that doesn’t want it. Something is wrong when the bride does not want sex.

A slut before marriage, a prude during marriage, I was every man’s dream.

Did I mention that I was probably the most immature, naive 20 year old in our town? I’ll bet you got that one all on your own though.

With the honeymoon is over and as we packed up our belongings and souvenirs that we bought for everyone, we headed off to start our new life together.

Customs in Canada was a breeze. We sailed right through; and why wouldn’t we, it wasn’t like we had anything to hide.

New York was an entirely different story.

A very nice customs official on the New York side asked us if we had anything to declare. Well, we had etched glasses for absolutely everyone in the family, and a gallon of milk. Does that count?
Have I mentioned we had a customized van? Red shag carpeting throughout, little refrigerator, bed and storage bin.

We were asked to step out of the van so they could do a routine search. I was taken inside so as not to be in the way. My husband stayed outside while they conducted the search.

I sat down and was asked some questions by a gentleman who seemed to think that I was hiding something. I guess that was his job because he certainly seemed to be looking for something. He went through my purse and found a medicine bottle with yellow and blue capsules. For anyone in 1976 who ever had a cold or the flu, you were prescribed erythromycin.

My dad would give us some to keep in the event we started to get sick.

If a customs official asks you what these pills are, if you are as innocent and stupid as I was, you are not going to remember the name. You are going to stutter and panic, thus making yourself look very guilty.

He took my antibiotics…

It is what happened next that is ingrained in my mind, and will be forever. My husband came in, surrounded by very official looking people, crying and in handcuffs. He kept saying how sorry he was and that they found “it”.

Now, what could “it” be? I had no idea. I knew my husband liked to indulge in pot smoking. Could it be a small amount that he forgot was in the van? Could it be a body of a scorned lover? Not so lucky. It was a gun with rounds of ammunition. His dad had been in the Army, and I believe it had been his. He had wanted to bring them to our home when we moved in together and I had said no. I did not want guns in our house. Silly me to believe that he listened. He had taken this one and hidden it in the van behind that beautiful red shag carpeting on the walls with all intentions of taking it out and putting it in our house.

Guess what, he forgot to take it out.

Needless to say, customs was not happy. They frown on arms passing through and into other countries. We were in big trouble, and I don’t’ even think I realized at the time just how much trouble we were in.

First, we were taken to two separate rooms and strip searched. Ladies, how many of you can say that you didn’t have sex with your husband on your honeymoon, but you got to get naked with two women? They looked in my ears for God’s sakes. It wasn’t fun. There I was, standing naked in a small room, two very tough looking women are examining me for hidden drugs and possibly an oozy stashed up my ass; and there are two men outside the door in the event that I tried to make a run for it.

Where the hell did they think I was going to run, naked and it being 20 below zero outside? Jesus Christ. I might have been stupid, but even I’m not that stupid.

I can hear the all points now. CALLING ALL CARS, CALLING ALL CARS, FUGITIVE IS A WOMAN, 5 FT. 7 INS, BLONDE, 130 LBS. NAKED WITH FROZEN BOOBS RUNNING DOWN THE FRIDGIDLY COLD STREETS OF NIAGARA FALLS NY.

Hey, if my boobs were frozen does that mean that they would be firm and not dragging on the ground?

I don’t think so.

When we were allowed to get dressed, I was told to remain seated where I had been, on a bench outside of an office. That office now contained my husband, and very official looking men. I don’t know how long he was in there when another gentleman appeared. He was, I believe, a District Attorney for the state of New York. From the little that they were telling me, we could have gone to Federal Prison for ten years. “Hi mom, I won’t’ be home for a while, serving time at Danbury”. I should have thrown myself over the falls after all.

Well it seems that they are still searching the van and they asked hubby if there is anything else hidden. It would be better if they were told about it before they find it.

Of course there was, under the back panel there is a box with rolling papers and some pot. This just gets better and better. I was starting to feel like Bonnie and Clyde.

I was finally called into “the room” with the District Attorney and the other Customs officials. I wasn’t in there very long, as I had absolutely nothing to offer. When you are as innocent and ignorant as I was, it is very obvious. No, I didn’t know about the gun, I knew he had it, but not that he had planned on taking it to our home (and killing me in my sleep no doubt). Yes I knew he smoked pot, but I had asked him to stop.

All I can say is that they were all very nice to me.

We must have looked pathetic. They eventually let us go that evening. We left the gun and the pot; paid $100.00 to get our van out of impound and went home.

I shudder to think where we would be today if that happened now. I don’t think they would have given us a slap on the wrist and let us go.

The honeymoon was over!

Oh the drama of finding love yet again

I had left New Jersey a naive child of thirteen with an innocence that would be lost forever. I know that happens to all of us; I just wish I could have released it on my own terms, not someone else’s.

My two years in the mid west proved to be more than I could have bargained for.
I was now a woman, W O M A N. (Are you singing now) I’m a woman, w o m an …….

It was also a time of discovery; I wasn’t stupid or lazy in regards to school work, I had a condition.

I had never done great in school. Oh I passed all my classes, but homework was a struggle; as were reading assignments. My parents assumed that I wasn’t applying myself hard enough; goofed around too much, and just didn’t take my studies seriously.

On one of my dad’s business trips he was out to dinner with several other men he was traveling with, and the discussion turned to a new condition relating to how information is process in the brain.

Mirror writing, difficulty retaining information, the list went on and on.
My father immediately went and called my mother. Holy shit, our daughter isn’t an idiot, she’s dyslexic.

That was a big deal for me; I always thought I was the mutant in the family; it takes its toll on your confidence.

Thinks were looking up; I had the man of my dreams and I wasn’t an idiot. Life was good.

Now, I had assumed that having sex with your boyfriend would cement the deal; especially if you put out every time he wanted it. What more could he possibly want?

You would live happily ever after and never be apart. WRONG!!!

It was always on our minds that I would be moving back to New Jersey at the end of my freshman year. There was nothing we could do about it either; my dad’s job only required us to be in Illinois for two years, we knew that when we left Jersey.

At that time, we were happy it would only be for two years. Now, I didn’t want to go back; my life was here.

My dad, once again, was being so selfish.

I actually believed that at the time. It’s no wonder that some animals eat their young.

So, as I walked around in haze of mixed emotions; love, fear, and confusion as to what the future held for us, my lover went off behind my back and met with someone new. John had a new girl friend.

He broke up with me, stating still that he was very much in love with me, but with my moving back east soon, there didn’t seem to be a reason to stay together. He hoped I understood.

Understood my ass. I was destroyed. The end of life as I had known it was over. I was very upset and very dramatic. I would NEVER find love again nor would I ever be happy again.

It wouldn’t long though that I would be asked out by another John. That’s me, I have lots of Johns.

My new John was blond and very good looking. He told me broke up with his girlfriend so he could take me out. He had been noticing me from afar. I was very flattered. That’s all it took, compliment me and I’m yours. Barf. He knew I slept with my boyfriend and wanted some of the same I can only assume.

I didn’t sleep with him; actually I only went out with him a few times. It seems I could say no when the reason had something to do with someone other than myself. I knew his ex girlfriend. I hadn’t known at the time that he had been her boyfriend, but when I saw her in the local ice cream shop and she started to cry, I would soon find out. Her boyfriend had broken up with her because she wouldn’t sleep with him. Seems he had met someone who he had a better chance with, me.

She didn’t know it was me, but I knew, and I felt so bad. This girl was crying on my shoulder about me and she didn’t even know it.

I don’t recall her name, but she was sweet, kind and strong enough to know what she would or wouldn’t do to keep her boyfriend. I so admired her for that.
I never dated John again and he went back to his girlfriend. He had tried but failed to get what my other John had. Hurray for me.

It wouldn’t be long before my first love came back to me, sorry and begging me to take him back.

It seems that he was so jealous when he heard I was going out with someone else, he said it forced him to realize his deep love for me.

We were, once again, a couple.

When my dad took my sister, mother and I to the airport to leave Illinois for good that summer, John came along also to say his goodbyes.

According to what my dad told my mother, he had never seen a young man cry as hard as John did when we boarded the plane.

I was allowed to go back to Illinois for a month later that summer. I would be staying part of the time with my friend Jill and her family and the other time, with John and his parents.

It was on this trip that I would receive what I had always wanted (well, since a year before that is) an engagement ring. John actually proposed to me, diamond and all. His parents were thrilled.

The first thing I could think of saying after I said yes of course was, “what did parents say when you asked them?” He hadn’t told them. Oh God was I in trouble.
I made his mother call my mom. It wasn’t pretty. When I got on the phone after what seemed like an eternity of both moms talking, all my mother said was. “ GIVE THE RING BACK”

Looking back, she sounded like Terri Gahr in Young Frankenstein. PUT THE CANDLE BACK…..

I had never heard that tone of voice coming out of my mom, and I haven’t heard it since, thank the lord. It was scary.

I simply could not believe that my mother was being so unreasonable. Didn’t she know that we were in love? Didn’t she remember what it was like to be with the only person on the planet that you would ever love and want as a husband? Apparently not. Selfish, just like my dad.

Reality, once again did not come into my life for a long long time.

I did give the ring back; at the airport when I was flying back home. Can you believe that my parents were still upset with me. Once again I cried for a long time after that.

My parents fooled even me, during school break around Thanksgiving, they let John come for a visit. It was wonderful, we were still in love, but that would soon end.

We both knew it wouldn’t work. I was, after all, only in the tenth grade, and leaving school was not an option. So we drifted apart. I was very sad about that. I even looked him up a year later when I went back to visit with my friend Jill.
I found his number and gave him a call. Seems he lived with his parents on a farm in Iowa then; had married and was happy.

So much for me being the only one for him. Just another lesson learned….well, not really. I tend to grasp these things much later than I should.

New Jersey was good. Although the friends that I had left behind only two year’s prior were so much more immature than I was. I had matured into a young, experienced woman; most of my friends were still, can you believe it, virgins. How childish.

Once again I was so out of the loop on what was appropriate and what wasn’t.
It wouldn’t be long before I met the next “love of my life” His name was Donny and I was in love, yet again.

It was in my junior and senior year that our love affair lasted. He was a Navy man. How can you go wrong with that?

I should have called out the Marines.

He was very nice at first, oh wait, don’t I say that about every single person I meet? I had met him through the guys (my best friends, but that’s a story in of itself) one summer and that was that. We seemed to hit it off right away; there was just something about him that was different than some of the other guys I had dated. I should have realized he wasn’t any different at all, he was just better at camouflaging his faults.

Donny was short, not particularly good looking, but seemed shy in a very cute sort of way; he was not intimidating in the least. Be cautious of the quiet ones ladies, they bite.

Donny was a virgin when I met him. When we had sex for the first time together, in his parent’s apartment in Newark, I left my socks on. Can you believe it? Me and my feet, what the hell is the deal with that?

What a first impression. I should have followed my own advice after my first time was so stressful. But, this was so spontaneous that I didn’t have time to plan the whole seduction scene. He threw me on his bed and said let’s do it. That’s romance.

I wonder if after we broke up he thought that all women left their foot wear on while performing the act.

Anyway, we went on your typical dates, dinner, movies; and of course, parties on the beach with the crew. Life was good; or so I thought.

When he went to sea several months after we had started dating, he would write a little bit to me every day, and then send the letters all at once. Now, being the idiot that I was, and not realizing how attached his mother was to him, I called her to tell her that I had received eight letters, and did she hear from him also; yup, one letter. One lousy letter.

Mind you, we had been talking for weeks about how we couldn’t wait to hear from him, and the first person to get A LETTER should call the other. I was in heaven, not only was in madly in love (again) with this man, but his mom loved me too. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

Could I have been exposed to radon or lead at some time during my childhood that caused such brain damage?

That was the beginning of the end of his mother liking me. She now hated me with a passion that I can’t begin to describe. Ladies, always let the mother of your boyfriend tell you what she got first, then you adjust your answer to always, and I mean always go less than what she got. You can’t lose that way. Otherwise, look out. Especially if she is the jealous type who feels that only she is good enough for her baby boy. And the sad part is, she really liked me in the beginning.

This woman was not happy with me. She even went through his things when he got home from his tour and read the letters that I wrote to him. In one of my letters, I jokingly said that we should go streaking down Arnold Avenue, the main street in the shopping district, when he got home. It was the craze at the time. I was joking, I certainly had no intention of running butt naked down our main thoroughfare. But, she took me seriously and had her son call me to come over. I did, but little did I know that she was on the way to my parent’s house, to show them the letter and let them know what kind of a slut I was, corrupting her son.

Can you believe that he actually went along with her: Set me up so I would get in trouble with my parents, or so she thought? That should have been my clue to dump him. Jesus Christ, I was a fool. As it turned out, my parents weren’t home. I did tell them about it and although they weren’t happy about me talking about being naked for all to see, they understood it was a joke and asked me to dump Donny.

Once again, I didn’t listen.

Now, when Donny got off the ship, our friends and I all planned to have me waiting on the beach the first day he was able to have leave. All our friends and his cousins would stand on the beach, blocking his view of me, so when he finally got onto the sand and started hugging everyone, they would move to the side and he would see me, standing there waiting for that long anticipated kiss and hug.

I went to embrace him and just feel him next to me again after such a long time. I had played the scene in my mind for weeks, anticipating his coming home and how it would play out. I tend to lean towards the dramatic. When you are sixteen and seventeen and in love, the feelings are so strong and you feel sometimes that you won’t be able to make it through one more day if you don’t see the man that holds your heart.

That was a scenario that only happened in my dreams. Donny stopped, looked at me for a moment and proceeded to yell at me in front of everyone that he needed to be with his friends and what gave me the right to be there when he had not specifically asked me to come. .

Having my mind set on a certain reaction, only to have him push me away and scream at me for being so selfish as to think that he would want me there was something that I had neither thought of nor anticipated in any way. My mind could not comprehend what was happening. He had not asked me to be there so what gave me the right to assume that I would be who he wanted to see his first full day back.

All of our friends just stared at him; but no one came to my defense. Most of them just kind of wandered down to the water; it was such an awkward situation for them.

Jesus Christ, half of my friends were his cousins, and the others were just too stunned to speak I guess. I was left standing there, looking like such a fool as Donny pushed past me, and I mean literally pushed, to join the others farther down the beach.

I don’t know if I was more hurt or embarrassed, but I do remember that I wasn’t mad or angry. If anything, anger is the emotion that should have been pumping through my veins, not embarrassment. I should have gotten my things and gone home, never to speak to his sorry ass again. I just did not know my own worth.

Now mind you, I was friends with all his relatives and we shared the same group of friends. Fuck him. I didn’t say that, I didn’t even think it at the time. Once again I did what I do best. I cried, hysterically. I thought that my life was over. I can remember the feeling of total loss. I was actually devastated. I didn’t think that I could go on without this man in my life, loving me.

It should have occurred to me that if this was love, who the hell needs it, but once again I just didn’t see it.

Now, wasn’t it not too long before this that I couldn’t live without my Illinois boyfriend, John? Hey, I can’t help it that I loved way too hard and fast. It would be years down the road before I realized that I hadn’t loved this man at all. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t love. What a sad way to live one’s life at 17 years old; thinking that life would not be complete, or worthwhile without a boyfriend, and an asshole one at that, in my life.

I sat for over an hour all by myself down the beach from where all my friends and Donny were enjoying the day. My best friend of all the guys we hung around with, Huey, came over and tried to console me. It didn’t do any good. If Donny didn’t want me as his girl friend, I would be miserable for the rest of my life. Oh, the drama.

Donny approached me when I was sitting there, like the perfect martyr, and said we should talk when we all got together that evening. I know it; can you believe that I went back that night for more fun? At least I had his permission this time.

So, later that evening, we all congregated at the house that Donny and his cousins’ families owned. When I got there and I had composed myself enough to speak, I apologized for being insensitive and not realizing that he would want to be with his friends and not me when he got home after three months at sea. I begged him to forgive me for being at the beach and getting him angry. Those stupid love letters telling me how much he missed me must have thrown me off. I don’t know why in the world I would have thought he wanted to see me, or that I needed his permission to be there in the first place for Christ’s sakes. It goes without saying that I did not say that to him. I just apologized, or if you prefer to be politically correct, I groveled.

I should have kicked his Navy ass back into the ocean where it belonged. We made up, but only after he made it perfectly clear that I was never, ever to embarrass him again by showing up uninvited.

We were all leaving the back yard, on our way up to the beach, when he pulled me back from the group. I assumed he was going to kiss me and apologize. Nope, he grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head against the side of the house, which just happened to be cement, as hard as he could. I cannot tell you how much that hurt. I actually saw stars. He was trying to get my attention to make sure that I was never again insensitive to his wants or needs. I got it alright. And did that bring me to my senses? Nope. I apologized for getting him angry again, and begged him not to be mad at me; after I was able to pick myself up off the ground that is, and come to terms with the pain that surging through my head.

Once again, I cried for a long time after that.

It couldn’t have been more than three weeks after the head-slamming incident that there was to be a huge party on the beach. We were all so excited. It was estimated that approximately 50 people would be there. Food, booze, music and fun. What could be better? I was working at the bank at the time and decided to invite one of my friends who had just recently gone through a rough patch in her personal life.

Can you take a guess what happened, judging by my luck? You guessed it, Donny propositioned her. He actually asked her point blank if she would go to bed with him, not a block away from the party at his families summer home. She said no, came and found me to tell me what a scum bag boyfriend I had and left the party.

I am amazed that I found the courage to confront Donny about his outrageous behavior. I was so hurt and confused, but proud of myself for finding the voice to let him know how I felt. My pride did not last long. We went back to his house where I was told in no uncertain terms, “If you love me, drop the subject and get in bed.” I did what I was told. Love making at its finest; angry, without love and one sided. Once again, pathetic.

Seems I was just as big an asshole as he was.

It wasn’t too long after that incident that my man decided he didn’t want to be in the Navy any longer. As many of you may know, that is not a decision that you are allowed to make on your own. It is called going AWOL. Not such a good thing.

His family consisted of nine aunts and uncles and various cousins. They all owned that summer home together in Point Pleasant Beach, NJ. This house was great. It was three stories tall and had nine bedrooms, a living room and kitchen. But it also had a huge garage that was converted into a gigantic kitchen so everyone could sit together and eat or just gather and spend time together.

This is where he stayed while on the lamb. I would lie to my parents and would tell them that I was staying at a friend’s house and go there and stay with him.

I actually, only stayed one night with him there, but would meet him almost everyday to go out, or just discuss what he was going to do. I mean, you can’t hide in a small seashore community forever, can you? It wasn’t until someone told my parents about this that we got caught.

I still did a lot of walking in those days, and told my parents I was on another one of my journeys. I walked over to a friend’s house where Donny happened to be spending some time to visit with him, because as you know, without my man I was nothing. When Wayne, our friend came back to his house where we were, he told me that he had just been at my parent’s house and that they knew Donny was AWOL. My parents knew that I was at Wayne’s house, and were going to come and get me. Having had a good relationship with my parents, he offered to come and get me and bring me home.

I can‘t describe the feeling that I had in my stomach. I can honestly tell you that that was probably the longest five-mile car trip that I have ever taken. It was just awful. My parents knew. That was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to me. Forget about Donny and the possibility of prison. I was worried about how my parents were going to react. For all the shenanigans that I did, I had a very healthy fear of my parents. I just never thought that I would get caught at anything.

It was worse than I thought. My dad cried. God, there is nothing worse than making your parents cry. I sat at the kitchen table while my parents yelled, talked, cried and just stood silent. I was so ashamed, I had absolutely no defense. And the worst part of it was that I had had an out to all of this. One of my teachers kept me after class one day because he sensed something was wrong. I had, and still have, such respect for this man that I confessed all. He was very kind to me. He told me that I had no choice but to turn him in. It would be better to do that than have them find him first. I agreed.

We walked down to the guidance office together where he found the number of Earle Naval Base for me, told me that I was strong enough to do this and shut the door so I could have privacy; leaving me alone to make the call and do the right thing.
I couldn’t do it. I should have, but I couldn’t. This teacher was very patient, he didn’t pressure me to call and he didn’t ask any questions as to where Donny was or how he was getting by. So, we were left with my parents finding out and Donny calling his uncle and having him go with him to turn himself in; which he did the very next day.

My parents grounded me, took my car keys, and told me that I would have to gain their trust all over again, that I had let them down by harboring someone that was AWOL and worse then that, I had lied to them over and over again. That, my friend, was the worst. My life was over, again. I must be part feline, I keep dieing and coming back again.

I was so upset the next day that my mom let me stay home from school. I did tell her that once I was 18; they couldn’t stop me from doing whatever I wanted, and that I would continue to see Donny. My love for him was too strong for them to keep us apart. God, don’t you just want to barf. It sounds like a bad script in an even worse soap opera.

Later that day, my mom came to my room with the phone. It was Donny. He was waiting for his uncle to come for him and wanted to see if I was alright. He had called his family to let them know what was going on and his uncle was nice enough to go with him when he turned himself in. Funny how he cared then but not when he was bashing my head against the wall.

He received some time in the brig and a dishonorable discharge.

I continued to see him briefly when he got out, but he had not changed. He was still very physical and I just couldn’t take it any longer. I finally did break up with him with the help and emotional support from my future first husband.

I know, don’t even say it……

I saw a mutual friend of ours a few years back and he told me that at that point, Donny’s parents had died and that he was homeless. I don’t wish that on anyone, not even him.

But like I said, what goes around comes around.

I left him for the safety and security of Gary’s arms.

From the oven into the fire pit.