After our date in New York, I received a dozen long-stemmed red roses from Matt telling me what a wonderful time he had. That would be the first of many roses sent to me by my new man. My sister Barbara saw them one day and asked me if I received them for something as serious a sneeze. I was getting at least two dozen roses a month.
I felt loved for the first time in a long time.
Matt and I were a couple; a real couple. It was never stated in words, but it was understood between the two of us that we were exclusive. I was so comfortable with his; and he took an immediate shine to my children. That was the most important factor in our relationship. After everything that I had put my children through by staying with Gary, I could not and would not subject them to someone who didn’t have their best interests at heart.
I had not been looking for a partner; I guess that’s when it happens, when you aren’t looking.
During the week Matt would come over and we would spend the evening watching TV and playing with the kiddies. Saturday night, that was our night to go out. Every Saturday Matt would take me to the Barber Shop. It was a great bar in Point Pleasant Beach, NJ. You could spend time at the bar downstairs; that’s where all the action was, the dance floor, girls wanting to meet their future boyfriends, and guys looking to get lucky.
Upstairs was a much smaller bar, and a circle of tables that sat at the edge of the hole in the floor, so you could look down at the people dancing. It’s upstairs where Matt and I would spend our Saturday evenings. We would drink, smoke cigarettes and just talk. It was so nice to have someone want to listen to what I had to say. We were very friendly with the bartender and Matt knew almost everyone in there.
The time that I spent together there were some of the best times that I ever had; I look back on those days and can’t help but smile.
Life was starting to turn around for my children and me.
It’s true, that life was getting better, but there were times when Gary felt the need to make his presence known.
I was home alone one da, Shayne and Brittany were with my parents for an outing when Gary showed up at the house. He was beyond angry and I can only assume high.
He proceeded to rip the doors off every cabinet in the kitchen. He threw me, all the dishes, spices and sugars onto the kitchen floor and into the living room. He also felt the need to overturn all the furniture; just to prove his point; which was, I was a fool to ask him to leave and I just might want to reconsider.
And then he left……
I wouldn’t let anyone see the damage. Not Matt, not my parents, not anyone; but the kids saw.
My mom pressed me as to what had happened after I had to borrow her vacuum, and she saw the bruising on my arms. It was then that she went to Gary’s mom’s home and told her what he had done, and that if he came near me again, she would call the police even if I wouldn’t.
After that, he didn’t come around much; thank God for little favors.
It wouldn’t be long after that, that I found the nerve to introduce him to my parents. They knew that there was someone in my life; they could see a change in me.
Of course, that had to do with the fact that Gary was gone, but it was more than that. I smiled more often and actually started to laugh again.
Matt and I were going to go out one evening during the week, and we decided to drop the kids off at my mom’s house together.
We were going to dinner. While my mom was talking to Matt and getting feel for this new man in her daughter’s life, my dad came in from work.
As dad walked in the back door and over to the sink where Matt and I were standing, I started to blush and giggle. My dad tweaked my cheek and said, “My aren’t we giddy today.”. I just continued to blush and giggle; but the ice was broken and first impressions went well all the way around.
I was happy.
Meeting Matt’s parents would prove to take more time. I was still legally married, older than Matt and I had two children. Not what you would call a parent’s hope for their child.
Although, I would learn later on that no one was going to be good enough for Matt; according to his mom anyway.
There’s something else, everyone has baggage. You might not see it right away; it takes time sometimes to come out; but no one is immune.
As time has a way of telling all, it would come out that my Matt had his share of baggage hiding just under the surface; even more than me I’m afraid.
By this time I had left my job at 7-11 and started working at a bank. Since I had experience, it was an easy transition. The pay wasn’t good but it was more than I had made at the convenience store and I received benefits for me and the kids.
Gary wasn’t working so there was nothing coming from him; it became all too apparent that I could not afford to stay in our house.
Plans were being made for me and my children to move.
Two of Gary’s friends were to move into our home and pay rent. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I just could not afford the $250.00 a month mortgage, plus utilities. As it was, by this time the electricity, gas, hot water and phone had all been shut off.
Matt brought over space heaters so we would stay warm and a huge cooler to keep milk and food. He would even take me shopping and buy groceries for the kids and me. While on one of our shopping trips at the Foodtown, Matt was pushing the kids in the shopping cart and a woman came up to him and told him how cute his kids were and that they looked just like him. He actually blushed and just said thank you.
My parents didn’t know that we were living that way; I was just too ashamed to tell them. Had they known, they would have packed me up and brought me home then and there then. I just couldn’t let them know. I had married a man that they didn’t like, and I had gone to them for money for food and shoes for the kids too many times, I was just so humiliated that I had let them down. But, situations have a way of changing your mind and forcing you to put your pride aside. It was getting so cold out; I couldn’t bathe the children in warm water and it was getting difficult to prepare them healthy meals with no means of heating anything.
I was too ashamed to tell my parents just how bad it was so I spoke to my friend Hope, and she agreed to let the kids and me move into her home. She had a large house, and since I had taken her in years before when I lived with my girlfriends at the beach, she returned the favor, tenfold. I had two children at the time and no money to pay her for her kindness.
I was there for about two months when it became apparent that it just was not going to work. I couldn’t pay her for anything, we had no money for food, and it was just wrong to continue to stay there, so, I spoke to my parents, told them of the situation and plans were made for the kids and me to move in with them.
My parents wanted to set the rooms up for us and I had told them that there was no hurry. I was still trying to shield them from the entire ugly story, so a date was set for us to move in and the waiting began. I neglected to tell them that I was moving out of Hope’s house several days before we were to move into their house.
So, in my little Volkswagen that my parent’s let me use, Shayne who was about three, and Brittany who was one and a half, and I spend three nights sleeping in my car at the inlet. It wasn’t easy, but at least we had shelter, and at their ages, they thought it was fun. We would go to my parents during the day for visits. This way we could use the bathrooms and wash up a bit. They were too little to announce where we were sleeping, so I knew that wouldn’t come up in conversation.
What makes us so prideful? What is it in our nature that makes it almost impossible at times to just man-up and say you fucked up, you need help, AGAIN? I should have just told my parents that we needed to stay there a few days earlier than expected.
I have very good parents and two wonderful sisters, and it would not have been a problem; or if it had been, it would have paled in comparison to sleeping with my kids at the inlet. My pride once again didn’t permit me to admit that we didn’t have any place to stay; even if it was only for three extra days.
So many people in similar situations are faced with the prospect of sleeping outside, in the open with no protection. For that we were lucky. We were safe from the elements and I could lock us in and keep us relatively safe from harm. Point Pleasant has its crime, but nothing like other towns or cities.
Others are not so lucky, the women on the street with their children and no family to help them, they are the true victims.
When we finally got to my parents, it was such a relief to go to the bathroom without going into a restaurant or convenience store, or trying to think of another reason to drop by their house. To bathe my children and get the stench of failure off of them was nothing less than pure exhilaration.
My mom and dad were so wonderful. At the time, Shayne was about three years old and very hyper. Now, when I say very, I mean he could have been bottled and sold as a stimulant. The child never stopped moving. I can’t imagine why.
Every night my dad would come home from his long commute from work, roll up his sleeves and fill the sink with warm water and bathe Shayne for at least a half an hour. Every single night my dad did this. It seemed to calm Shayne down and relax him enough so he could sleep.
During one period, Shayne was going around locking all the doors, scared to death to go outside. When questioned about this, he told us that Gary had told him that he was going to come and steal him and Brittany away from us. So, the doors were locked and bolted and my children were told that nothing could get them, period.
They were safe in that house and could rest easy that no harm would come to them while there.
It wasn’t easy for my parents. I was so angry at Gary and myself at this point; I had a huge chip on my shoulder, and along with my feelings of failure, I was a bitch; an uptight snotty bitch.
Brittany and Shayne were so little and Shayne was a handful. But, my parents did what they thought they should do, what was best for their grandchildren and daughter.
I was making $150.00 per week and it just didn’t cut it at all. If I had any hope at all of moving out of my parent’s home and setting up house for the kids and I, I had to make a change. Something had to happen. It isn’t easy to make a change into the unknown. I had a job with benefits, albeit not a great one.
Was I strong enough to leave that security and face an uncertain future?
As it happens, I was. After working at a bank for a year or so, I decided to quit my job, go on welfare and go back to school.
Going on Welfare was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. At the time, I thought that doing so labeled me a failure. That wasn’t the case at all. I finally had to face the fact that I needed to do this to get the lives of myself and my children’s life back on track, well on track for the first time.
My friend Kathy and I had actually gone to sign me up to beautician’s school. I loved to cut hair so I thought that that would be the perfect position for me. But, after speaking to my family about it, it occurred to me that I should go to secretarial school instead. It made sense considering that it was one of the dreams I had as a girl.
So, I signed up for Taylor Business Institute, filled out the necessary forms for possible grants and student loans, took the initial tests to get in and I was on my way. The only step left was to sign up for welfare.
That was not an easy thing to do. Since I was living with my parents, and they were able to feed us, the money was needed for daycare and everyday living expenses. I qualified and off I went to school.
It was one of the best things that I have ever done. Ladies, if you need the help for a short time, do it.
My case worker was a really nice man, Mr. Bridges if I remember correctly, who would meet with me every month, if I am not mistaken. Questions were asked as to what I was doing, when I would finish school, etc. So many of the women that I saw in that office had clearly given up, it was very sad to witness such desperation.
When I was ready to graduate from Taylor I went in for my scheduled visit, informed my case worker that this would be the last check that I would be receiving and that I would not require anymore assistance from the state.
He was shocked; astounded is more like it. He asked me if I had gotten a job, and if so, what was I making? I hadn’t gotten a job, as a matter of fact, I was just about to graduate from school, but I was now able to find a full time job and that, in my opinion made it necessary for me to stop receiving benefits.
The benefits were there for me when I couldn’t work due to school and young children. I was now able to concentrate on getting a job and supporting my family. This sweet man stood up and shook my hand and told me that I was doing exactly what the system was intended for.
That one moment when he took my hand I was so proud of myself. I had achieved what I had set out to do and I was now, in my mind, ready to go out and make a living for me and my children.
As it turned out I did very well. The Dean of Taylor even offered me a job there, which I turned down so I could complete my courses and move on to what I hoped would be a future for my family. My secretarial journey started at Amerada Hess and eventually led me to my present position at Andantex USA Inc. Hey, need a gear rack?
My relationship with Matt was moving along and it became impossible to hid it from his parents any longer. His sister knew about me and threatened to tell. Our hand was forced and a day and time was set.
I don’t recall ever being that nervous to meet someone.
As it turns out, it went very well. Matt’s parents had a gifts for the kids and were very polite to me.
Matt’s dad, Tony was working on their boat on the driveway and was quite impressed with little Shayne’s knowledge of tools and with Brittany as cute as a button, we couldn’t miss…or could we.
They loved my children and decided to tolerate me, for the time being anyway. As for me, they were convinced I was a gold-digging harpy looking to steal their son away from them and everything he had.
It would be some time before I won over his dad; his mother was going to take a lot longer.
I was in love with Matt and he was falling in love with me, and my children.
Looking back, I believe that his parents thought that our relationship would burn out; that Matt would tire of dating a woman with children and a psychotic ex-husband.
That wasn’t to be the case, and when it was apparent to Matt’s dad that he was, indeed, in love with me he gave him this advice. He said “If you continue your relationship with this woman and eventually you fall out of love with her, you will still love the children; can you live with that?”
Food for thought.
His family was never mean to me, but I know that Matt had to hear about it all the time. You see, his dad owned a company and Matt, his mom and dad carpooled every day to the same office and worked side by side all day, lunched together and drove home together. Oh yeah, and they all lived together.
That in of itself would prove to be part of the baggage that I spoke about. It would be sometime before I realized the extent of their suspicion of me.
For Matt and I; we didn’t care, we loved each other and for the first time in a long time, we were both with someone who actually cared about the other.
We weren’t going to let anything or anybody get in the way of our feelings for each other, for the time being anyway.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Meeting Matteo
As my relationship with Matt progressed, so did my feelings. I was feeling things I hadn’t felt in a long time. Although our relationship was platonic, I knew for me, it could be more.
Our time together eventually moved out of the store and into the Barber Shop bar, a place where my girlfriend and I would go one night a week.
Can you believe my surprise when it turned out that this was the same night that Matt and his good friend Tommy would go? So, the kids would normally go to my parent’s house and off we would go hang out and have a few drinks together. Just talk.
I enjoyed his company so much; I was actually starting to feel like a woman again.
Then, one evening, a young woman whom he knew came over to say hello to him while we were sitting at the bar. It was very innocent, a hug, a friendly chat for about five minutes, and then she was on her way.
I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did next, but I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and said thank you. Right after that, the song THE ROSE came on and he asked me to dance. I said no when I wanted to say yes. That’s a switch for me isn’t it? All I wanted was to be held by this man.
Thank the Lord I said no. Gary had walked in to surprise me and he would have seen us on the dance floor, in each other’s arms, dancing to this very slow song; with my head, I’m sure, resting on Matt’s shoulder. I was falling in love and was scared to death.
I don’t think he would have liked that. Or, maybe he wouldn’t have minded, I just don’t know what his reaction would have been. It wasn’t something that I wanted to see though, good or bad.
You see, Gary had his night of the week to go out and I had mine. It had been his idea to each have a separate night to go out. I guess it didn’t occur to him that maybe going out together would have been nice. So be it. I was determined to leave him at that point in time, and was just looking the right time to do it; which is code for courage.
So, Gary came in, having left the kids with his mother, said his hellos, let me know that he was also going out and left. I was shaking so hard at the thought of him seeing me kiss Matt on the cheek that we all soon left to go home.
He had slept with several women since our marriage and I kissed a man on the cheek; I considered it being unfaithful and was ashamed but happy all at the same time.
I will never forget that evening. Matt was shaken a bit by Gary coming in, but was flattered and almost blushing at the fact that I had kissed his cheek. All I could think of to tell him was that I was just so glad that he was my friend. I didn’t dare tell him it was because I got so jealous when his female friend came and spoke to him that it was the only thing that I could think of to do.
The following week, or sometime there about, we decided to go to the bar and talk some more and I did something that shocked me so much that looking back I am still amazed that I had the nerve to do what I did.
After an evening at the bar with my friend Maggie, Matt and his friend Tommy, we all went to the OB Diner for a bite to eat after the bar closed.
We must have been in the diner for almost two hours, just enjoying each other’s company. I didn’t want the evening to end.
Now, I was stone-cold sober. After eating my girlfriend went home, as did Tommy. Matt walked me to my car, well, not my car. My parents let me borrow their car from time to time when I needed one. Well, Matt and I decided that we still wanted to talk so we got into my orange VW Bug. For the first time since we had met, we were actually awkward with each other. We were alone and in a situation that had the potential of going farther than it should. I might have been very unhappy with my husband, but he was still just that, my husband. I did not want to follow the same road that he had, being unfaithful.
The conversation was sparse, but neither one of us wanted the night to end. So I summoned up all the courage that I could, looking down the entire time I spoke. I confessed to him that I was starting to like him too much and didn’t know what to do about it. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I was sure it would bust. What had possessed me to tell him how I felt? I could have just ruined our friendship; a friendship that I cherished and needed. One of the few times I find the nerve to open my mouth; it might have been a disaster.
Much to my surprise, and relief, he told me that he also was starting to like me much more than just a friend. Then he kissed me. It was the sweetest kiss I had ever experienced. It didn’t even matter that my head of big bushy hair got in the way and the kiss had to be cut short, thus to move the locks. It just didn’t matter. I knew then that I was in love with this man.
I got home at about four am that evening. Gary was just leaving the house with our children in tow, going out to look for me. I don’t know why he had cut his night short and picked the kids up; it figures, the night I’m late, he’s home. You see, on my nights out, I was never late. I was always home by midnight, at the very latest.
I got out of my car, apologized for being so late, and told him that Maggie and I had fallen asleep at her home, where we had gone after the bar. Being sober was a plus because I was shaking so hard I didn’t think I could have pulled that lie off if I had been drunk.
I felt so guilty about lying to him, I don’t know how people have affairs and still sleep at night. I had been kissed by a man that was not my husband. That is cheating pure and simple. He didn’t grope at my breasts or touch anything inappropriate, but a kiss is a kiss nonetheless. I had cheated and I was so ashamed; but I did go to sleep that night – alone in my top bunk - remembering that kiss.
I put my children back to bed and decided then and there that I needed to get Gary out of my house, regardless of how frightened I was of him. I knew it would take time, but I also knew that I had to do it sooner, not later.
When I finally found the nerve to tell my husband that I wanted to separate, I told him that he had go live with his mom for a while. Find a job, control his temper and then maybe we had a chance. I knew it was over. I was still so afraid of him, I thought, “Ok Nancy, one step at a time.” Get him out of the house first, worry about the rest later.
I can remember it so clearly. We were sitting on our front steps and I was telling him that it wasn’t working and that he had to go. I couldn’t take the violence any more, the drug use, or the not working. Having sex with other women was a big factor too, but for some reason I didn’t mention it.
He actually cried. I felt so bad, but I knew that this had to happen. My children and I were at great risk of being harmed or worse. I had finally found the strength to do something about it. I’m just sorry it took so long.
But, he left. He went to live with his mom in the neighboring town. He swore he would look for work, and try to control his habits and temper. He also swore that he never meant to hurt me or the kids, that it was something that he couldn’t control, but would do his best to change.
There we go again, my head told me this wasn’t going to ever work again, but my heart said that I needed to give him another chance, he was the father of my children, and I had to do everything I could to save the marriage, after all, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, really. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t have to look back and be sorry for not having tried everything.
It is so hard for me to see people in pain, even ones that have caused my life to be turned upside down. I would rather be the one hurting. Does that make me a martyr? I don’t know, all I know is that my heart breaks when I see almost anyone seemingly sad or distressed.
Well, once at his mom’s, it was apparently easier for him to live the life he actually wanted. Free from responsibilities. No wife or kids to hamper his life. He appeared happier, or so I thought.
If nothing else Gary could change moods and his mind on a dime. His feelings went back and forth till I finally told him I didn’t want him back, and that as soon as I could afford it, I would be filing for divorce.
Again he cried and begged me to give him another chance; that he loved me and was trying. I’m not sure what he was sorry about. He certainly was having a great time living the life as a bachelor, rarely saw the kids, and just had the life I am sure he loved.
I was finally finding the courage to at least attempt to take control of my life: I told him no.
The following day I went to a lawyer and filed for legal separation.
Gary had not changed his ways at all. So now I found myself still deathly afraid of him, not in love with him, and I had no respect for him; and I was finding myself falling in love with Matt.
He would not be coming back to me, period. He didn’t like that. I don’t know why people think that they want something when clearly they are miserable when they have it. Gary wasn’t happy with me or the kids. He wanted his freedom to do whatever it was that he wanted. I put such a damper on that, so why in the world did he get upset when I told him to leave? Is it control, is it the need to berate and intimidate people? Whatever it was, he was not happy at all.
So why push the issue? I just don’t have an answer for that.
He showed up at 7-11 one day while I was on the day shift, came in and started yelling at me for leaving him and throwing him out of his home, away from his children. He was accusing me of sleeping with any number of people, most of the male customers that came in the store and basically, calling me a whore.
Why is it that when men get mad at women, they are immediately classified as a slut? I was mortified.
I made him go outside and it continued for what seemed like hours. Probably only ten minutes or so, but I was crying, he was yelling and my boss came outside to put an end to it. He told Gary that he would not permit him to come into his store and upset me like that. He would be forced to call the police if he showed up again.
My boss’ name was Ed and he was very good to me. I have to give him credit, he was not a big man, but he came outside anyway to protect me.
So a new chapter in the life and times of being followed by the mad husband had begun. It wasn’t pretty.
With my seperation in place, Matt asked me out on an official date. He was to take me to New York to see a broadway play, THE FIFTH OF JULY, and then dinner at Mama Leonis with our friends Lisa and Tommy.
It took me all day to get ready. Matt paid me to get my hair done, (you did that in those days). I wore a pair of teal brush velvet Gloria Vanderbelt jeans and a white satin ruffel blouse. I was one hot mama.
After the play, which was wonderful, off we went to dinner. I was so hungry at this point but being overweight, I did't want Matt to think I ate much. Sooooo, as everyone else was enjoying their appetizers and soup, I waited for the main course; no food for me until then.
When our meals finally came, I was ravinous. BUT, I only ate half. God help me if Matt knew I had an appitite and actually ate. Aghhhhhhhhhhh
I felt like a princess. It was one of the best nights I had ever had.
That night is one of the times I'll always remember.
Matt and I were now a couple.
He would come over in the evenings when I didn't have to work, play with the kids and spend time with me; every night.
One evening when Matt and I were watching TV at my house, the kids all tucked into bed sound asleep, we realized what the term stalking meant.
Matt heard it first; a noise coming from my basement. I thought he was hearing things until there was loud knock on the front door.
Who the hell would be knocking on my door at 10:00pm? I should have known.
We jumped up so fast you would have thought the devil himself was coming for us. Close. It was Gary, he wanted to know what we were doing and to tell me that he wanted to come back home.
It was horrible. He wasn’t so much really angry but just very agitated and persistent; and drunk. When he finally got the message that he was not coming back home, and that I did not want to be with him, he left. Matt and I were so shaken. Gary was a very intimidating presence, especially when he was drunk or high. You just never knew; so we were very relieved when he left without incident.
He was back in five minutes.
Seems he lost his car keys while lurking around outside. You had to see it: Matt, me and Gary all looking around outside with flashlights for his car keys. Here we thought he was going to murder us; but we end up all tromping around outside in the dark looking for his keys. He found them in the lock of the trunk of the car. I wonder if he was planning on putting our bodies in there to dispose of them. Sure, I can laugh now, but not then.
That would be the last time he came over in stealth, but certainly not the last time he would be intrusive in my life.
Our time together eventually moved out of the store and into the Barber Shop bar, a place where my girlfriend and I would go one night a week.
Can you believe my surprise when it turned out that this was the same night that Matt and his good friend Tommy would go? So, the kids would normally go to my parent’s house and off we would go hang out and have a few drinks together. Just talk.
I enjoyed his company so much; I was actually starting to feel like a woman again.
Then, one evening, a young woman whom he knew came over to say hello to him while we were sitting at the bar. It was very innocent, a hug, a friendly chat for about five minutes, and then she was on her way.
I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did next, but I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and said thank you. Right after that, the song THE ROSE came on and he asked me to dance. I said no when I wanted to say yes. That’s a switch for me isn’t it? All I wanted was to be held by this man.
Thank the Lord I said no. Gary had walked in to surprise me and he would have seen us on the dance floor, in each other’s arms, dancing to this very slow song; with my head, I’m sure, resting on Matt’s shoulder. I was falling in love and was scared to death.
I don’t think he would have liked that. Or, maybe he wouldn’t have minded, I just don’t know what his reaction would have been. It wasn’t something that I wanted to see though, good or bad.
You see, Gary had his night of the week to go out and I had mine. It had been his idea to each have a separate night to go out. I guess it didn’t occur to him that maybe going out together would have been nice. So be it. I was determined to leave him at that point in time, and was just looking the right time to do it; which is code for courage.
So, Gary came in, having left the kids with his mother, said his hellos, let me know that he was also going out and left. I was shaking so hard at the thought of him seeing me kiss Matt on the cheek that we all soon left to go home.
He had slept with several women since our marriage and I kissed a man on the cheek; I considered it being unfaithful and was ashamed but happy all at the same time.
I will never forget that evening. Matt was shaken a bit by Gary coming in, but was flattered and almost blushing at the fact that I had kissed his cheek. All I could think of to tell him was that I was just so glad that he was my friend. I didn’t dare tell him it was because I got so jealous when his female friend came and spoke to him that it was the only thing that I could think of to do.
The following week, or sometime there about, we decided to go to the bar and talk some more and I did something that shocked me so much that looking back I am still amazed that I had the nerve to do what I did.
After an evening at the bar with my friend Maggie, Matt and his friend Tommy, we all went to the OB Diner for a bite to eat after the bar closed.
We must have been in the diner for almost two hours, just enjoying each other’s company. I didn’t want the evening to end.
Now, I was stone-cold sober. After eating my girlfriend went home, as did Tommy. Matt walked me to my car, well, not my car. My parents let me borrow their car from time to time when I needed one. Well, Matt and I decided that we still wanted to talk so we got into my orange VW Bug. For the first time since we had met, we were actually awkward with each other. We were alone and in a situation that had the potential of going farther than it should. I might have been very unhappy with my husband, but he was still just that, my husband. I did not want to follow the same road that he had, being unfaithful.
The conversation was sparse, but neither one of us wanted the night to end. So I summoned up all the courage that I could, looking down the entire time I spoke. I confessed to him that I was starting to like him too much and didn’t know what to do about it. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I was sure it would bust. What had possessed me to tell him how I felt? I could have just ruined our friendship; a friendship that I cherished and needed. One of the few times I find the nerve to open my mouth; it might have been a disaster.
Much to my surprise, and relief, he told me that he also was starting to like me much more than just a friend. Then he kissed me. It was the sweetest kiss I had ever experienced. It didn’t even matter that my head of big bushy hair got in the way and the kiss had to be cut short, thus to move the locks. It just didn’t matter. I knew then that I was in love with this man.
I got home at about four am that evening. Gary was just leaving the house with our children in tow, going out to look for me. I don’t know why he had cut his night short and picked the kids up; it figures, the night I’m late, he’s home. You see, on my nights out, I was never late. I was always home by midnight, at the very latest.
I got out of my car, apologized for being so late, and told him that Maggie and I had fallen asleep at her home, where we had gone after the bar. Being sober was a plus because I was shaking so hard I didn’t think I could have pulled that lie off if I had been drunk.
I felt so guilty about lying to him, I don’t know how people have affairs and still sleep at night. I had been kissed by a man that was not my husband. That is cheating pure and simple. He didn’t grope at my breasts or touch anything inappropriate, but a kiss is a kiss nonetheless. I had cheated and I was so ashamed; but I did go to sleep that night – alone in my top bunk - remembering that kiss.
I put my children back to bed and decided then and there that I needed to get Gary out of my house, regardless of how frightened I was of him. I knew it would take time, but I also knew that I had to do it sooner, not later.
When I finally found the nerve to tell my husband that I wanted to separate, I told him that he had go live with his mom for a while. Find a job, control his temper and then maybe we had a chance. I knew it was over. I was still so afraid of him, I thought, “Ok Nancy, one step at a time.” Get him out of the house first, worry about the rest later.
I can remember it so clearly. We were sitting on our front steps and I was telling him that it wasn’t working and that he had to go. I couldn’t take the violence any more, the drug use, or the not working. Having sex with other women was a big factor too, but for some reason I didn’t mention it.
He actually cried. I felt so bad, but I knew that this had to happen. My children and I were at great risk of being harmed or worse. I had finally found the strength to do something about it. I’m just sorry it took so long.
But, he left. He went to live with his mom in the neighboring town. He swore he would look for work, and try to control his habits and temper. He also swore that he never meant to hurt me or the kids, that it was something that he couldn’t control, but would do his best to change.
There we go again, my head told me this wasn’t going to ever work again, but my heart said that I needed to give him another chance, he was the father of my children, and I had to do everything I could to save the marriage, after all, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, really. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t have to look back and be sorry for not having tried everything.
It is so hard for me to see people in pain, even ones that have caused my life to be turned upside down. I would rather be the one hurting. Does that make me a martyr? I don’t know, all I know is that my heart breaks when I see almost anyone seemingly sad or distressed.
Well, once at his mom’s, it was apparently easier for him to live the life he actually wanted. Free from responsibilities. No wife or kids to hamper his life. He appeared happier, or so I thought.
If nothing else Gary could change moods and his mind on a dime. His feelings went back and forth till I finally told him I didn’t want him back, and that as soon as I could afford it, I would be filing for divorce.
Again he cried and begged me to give him another chance; that he loved me and was trying. I’m not sure what he was sorry about. He certainly was having a great time living the life as a bachelor, rarely saw the kids, and just had the life I am sure he loved.
I was finally finding the courage to at least attempt to take control of my life: I told him no.
The following day I went to a lawyer and filed for legal separation.
Gary had not changed his ways at all. So now I found myself still deathly afraid of him, not in love with him, and I had no respect for him; and I was finding myself falling in love with Matt.
He would not be coming back to me, period. He didn’t like that. I don’t know why people think that they want something when clearly they are miserable when they have it. Gary wasn’t happy with me or the kids. He wanted his freedom to do whatever it was that he wanted. I put such a damper on that, so why in the world did he get upset when I told him to leave? Is it control, is it the need to berate and intimidate people? Whatever it was, he was not happy at all.
So why push the issue? I just don’t have an answer for that.
He showed up at 7-11 one day while I was on the day shift, came in and started yelling at me for leaving him and throwing him out of his home, away from his children. He was accusing me of sleeping with any number of people, most of the male customers that came in the store and basically, calling me a whore.
Why is it that when men get mad at women, they are immediately classified as a slut? I was mortified.
I made him go outside and it continued for what seemed like hours. Probably only ten minutes or so, but I was crying, he was yelling and my boss came outside to put an end to it. He told Gary that he would not permit him to come into his store and upset me like that. He would be forced to call the police if he showed up again.
My boss’ name was Ed and he was very good to me. I have to give him credit, he was not a big man, but he came outside anyway to protect me.
So a new chapter in the life and times of being followed by the mad husband had begun. It wasn’t pretty.
With my seperation in place, Matt asked me out on an official date. He was to take me to New York to see a broadway play, THE FIFTH OF JULY, and then dinner at Mama Leonis with our friends Lisa and Tommy.
It took me all day to get ready. Matt paid me to get my hair done, (you did that in those days). I wore a pair of teal brush velvet Gloria Vanderbelt jeans and a white satin ruffel blouse. I was one hot mama.
After the play, which was wonderful, off we went to dinner. I was so hungry at this point but being overweight, I did't want Matt to think I ate much. Sooooo, as everyone else was enjoying their appetizers and soup, I waited for the main course; no food for me until then.
When our meals finally came, I was ravinous. BUT, I only ate half. God help me if Matt knew I had an appitite and actually ate. Aghhhhhhhhhhh
I felt like a princess. It was one of the best nights I had ever had.
That night is one of the times I'll always remember.
Matt and I were now a couple.
He would come over in the evenings when I didn't have to work, play with the kids and spend time with me; every night.
One evening when Matt and I were watching TV at my house, the kids all tucked into bed sound asleep, we realized what the term stalking meant.
Matt heard it first; a noise coming from my basement. I thought he was hearing things until there was loud knock on the front door.
Who the hell would be knocking on my door at 10:00pm? I should have known.
We jumped up so fast you would have thought the devil himself was coming for us. Close. It was Gary, he wanted to know what we were doing and to tell me that he wanted to come back home.
It was horrible. He wasn’t so much really angry but just very agitated and persistent; and drunk. When he finally got the message that he was not coming back home, and that I did not want to be with him, he left. Matt and I were so shaken. Gary was a very intimidating presence, especially when he was drunk or high. You just never knew; so we were very relieved when he left without incident.
He was back in five minutes.
Seems he lost his car keys while lurking around outside. You had to see it: Matt, me and Gary all looking around outside with flashlights for his car keys. Here we thought he was going to murder us; but we end up all tromping around outside in the dark looking for his keys. He found them in the lock of the trunk of the car. I wonder if he was planning on putting our bodies in there to dispose of them. Sure, I can laugh now, but not then.
That would be the last time he came over in stealth, but certainly not the last time he would be intrusive in my life.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sliced meat and a new friend
My husband did not want to work anymore. I knew he hated getting up every day to drive that damn truck, but it never crossed my mind that he would do what he did next.
Why does that keep happening to me? I just never see it coming; constantly being blindsided.
So I guess it should not have come as any surprise to me the day he came home from work and informed me that he had quit his job, gone down to the local 7-11, spoke to the manager about me and got me a job.
I was to start Monday.
Stunned silence is how I would describe that moment.
I was so shy and introverted. At that point in my life I was not even capable of calling the pizza parlor for delivery. I just did not have the strength to speak up for myself or call and ask for a fucking pizza. The thought of going to this convenience store and announcing that I was here to start working, and actually being expected to interact with people, was beyond anything that I could physically do; let alone walk into an establishment and say, “here I am, my husband got me this job”.
It isn’t so much that I found the strength and courage to go; it’s that I didn’t have the strength or courage not to.
I thought that my life was going to be over.
Working at the bank was different, it was almost all phone work; I was comfortable there and I felt secure.
Up until that point, I hadn’t had my soul ripped out yet.
I did not think I could do it, but nothing came to mind as to how to get out of it. Getting ready for my first day was like slow torture. I was scheduled to be there at 4 pm. I don’t recall ever being that nervous. I didn’t have a choice though. I was so afraid of my husband at that point; I had to risk humiliation at the hands of a convenience store customer rather than piss him off.
I don’t know what I expected to happen. Hind sight tells me that I was not going to be randomly killed by a customer unhappy with their buttered roll, or laughed at by hoards of coffee-drinking patrons; but the fear was still there. I just could not shake that. Or was it the fear I had of pissing off my husband. I can’t imagine what he would have done if I had decided not to go, and forced him back to work. Maybe it was a little bit of both.
Since we only lived five blocks or so from the store, I would walk to work so Gary could keep the van. That first day, I walked slower than I ever have before. I kept thinking if I take my time, and really walk as slow as possible; maybe I’ll never get there. Wrong.
I showed up, stood in the candy isle and just looked at the floor, shaking so hard I could hardly stand up without falling, my legs were trembling so bad. It’s a good thing that the woman who was working there at the time was kind. Her name was Cheryl and she must have known who I was and why I was there. She called me over and asked if I was Nancy. Barely speaking above a whisper, I said yes, and proceeded behind the counter.
At that time, all 7-11’s had delis. So not only did I have to learn how to run a cash register, I had to learn how to slice meat. God I was not going to make it. Customer service, greeting customers and slicing meat, this was too much. I was a goner for sure.
All I know is that once I stated that job, I felt liberated. I missed my children very much, but it was a relief to get out of the house and mix with other people. And you know what; I was good at it.
Not saying much you say, well, I took pride in what I was doing. It wasn’t brain surgery, I didn’t need a college degree to do it, hell, I didn’t need my high school diploma to do it, but that didn’t matter. I was doing a job and I was doing it well.
I had pretty much lost all confidence since quitting my job at the bank. When you are slammed down psychologically day after day, you just can’t seem to see the light at the end. But this job let me start to see it. There was a light at the end and eventually, the kids and I would be ok and not dependant on Gary for anything.
The people I worked with were really nice. We all seemed to get along very well. It was one of the only times I actually relaxed.
It’s funny how things happen. I was so frightened to go to that job and now I couldn’t wait to get there. Little did I know that it would be a major turning point in my life. It’s there where I met Matt; the man who would become my best friend, biggest ally and future husband.
As it turns out, I loved running that cash register. Back then, you had to manually put in the amount and whether it was taxable or not. You remember those big ugly, and very loud brown registers. I can remember as a kid checking out at the A & P, watching the cashiers ringing up my mom’s items. That is what I wanted to do. So, there is yet another of my childhood dreams come true.
Convenience store shoppers are very interesting. Some can be so obnoxious that you almost stop believing that most people are good. There is a group of people, all ages and sizes and all colors and religions, that feel they are better than the average working person. They are, in my opinion, the lowest of the low. Trash if you will. Why some people feel that they are obligated to treat the working class like shit made my life miserable, but only until I realized that it truly was their problem and not mine, and thank God they were a minority.
I was starting to get it, life is what you make it, and not how you let other people manipulate or control you. You have the power to change it, even though those around you won’t.
I’m now 54 years old and still trying to remember that. Aghhhhh
Then you have the men that for some reason, feel that they are studs, when they obviously are not. I had one group of men roll in one early morning on their way home from the docks. Their boat must have come in sometime during the night, and they had had a few too many drinks before heading home. One of the fishermen approached the counter and proceeded to tell me what a great mouth I had and then felt the need to describe what he wanted me to do with my very voluptuous lips. I declined his offer, rang up his order, and he left unsatisfied.
I had finally progressed to the point of saying no to sex when I didn’t want it. No brainer you say. I shudder to think what I would have done a few years earlier. Would I have taken this drunken fisherman into the back room and man handled his mackerel simply because I didn’t think I could say no? We’ll never know, but God I hope not. That move would have graduated me from pathetic to hopeless.
Then you have people who are just plan decent; happy, friendly and pleasant, just looking to purchase their items and go home. The majority of the people that I met during my time at 7-11 were great. I formed some lasting friendships during those days in the early eighties that I still have today.
I hadn’t worked at the 7-11 more than a day or two when the man that would change my life walked through the door. His name was Matt and he was gorgeous. God I can still remember the way my stomach felt when he introduced himself to me. Butterflies would be an understatement. I still get them from time to time when he looks at me a certain way, after almost 30 years together.
Matt would come in for coffee every night. He knew the other people that worked in the store, so he always stopped to chat. He was a fixture there in the evenings. I started to look forward to his visits. He would stay an hour or so, just talking to all of us.
It is the friendship that I developed with Matt that would change me forever. I looked forward to going to work every day. It was hard to leave my children, most of the time with my parents, but I could get out of my house and away from my husband. I was safe there, and they really seemed to like me.
I had stopped caring what I looked like some time before. When you are browbeaten every day, and physically terrorized, you tend to stop worrying about the little things like giving a shit about how you looked, as long as you had on long sleeves to cover the bruising.
I had a new friend and I smiled again. As the weeks went on, we grew closer and closer. He would come in after work for his coffee and then again in the evening for more coffee. I could count on seeing him at least twice during the weekdays and three times on weekends. He would come in on his way home from the bar and tell me all about his evening. I was so interested in everything he said. One evening he was telling me about two women who he liked but didn’t know which one to concentrate on.
It never occurred to me that I was one of those women.
By this time, I was developing a very large crush on him. It was getting harder and harder for me to deal with my husband. Here was this man that I met at the 7-11 treating me better as a friend than my husband treated me as his wife. I was so confused.
Eventually, Matt and I became closer than he and my co-workers. He was becoming, in my mind, more than just a friend.
It seemed I could talk to him about anything. It was a pleasant relief to speak to a man who didn’t judge me, or call me names, and just seemed interested in what I had to say.
It was also very refreshing not to have canned goods, tables and lit matches hurled at me.
There were times when he would come back to the store when my shift had about an hour left and help me stock the freezer, clean up the place, and just be company for me.
It is those times that I started to tell him about my troubled marriage and what I was going through at home. I confided in him that I wanted to leave my husband, but was too afraid to. I was lost and didn’t know what to do. I was too ashamed to tell my parents or sisters how bad it was; they would worry and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be seen as a failure in their eyes either.
My family isn’t like that; they would have been supportive and loving, just like they have always been. It was my pride and immaturity getting in the way once again.
We spoke at length about what had been going on, and he urged me to try one more time to make it work. We had two children together and if I could just convince Gary that his behavior was not acceptable and his drug habits had to be addressed, and then we might have a chance.
On some of the evenings that I had to walk home from work at midnight, Matt would come in at about eleven, and then drive me home. I wasn’t allowed to use the van and remember; Gary had already crashed and ruined my little orange moped.
Now, I had told Gary all about Matt; how he was friends with everyone in the store and was just a nice guy. Gary was not threatened or intimidated. He thought it was great. Not that he would come and drive me home, but it meant that even if it was raining or snowing, he was off the hook. The kids could stay sleeping and he could continue to do whatever it was that he was doing.
On one occasion, when Matt pulled up to the house, Gary was outside, with a machete, swinging at the holly tree in the front yard. I cannot describe to you the look on Matt’s face. It was one of complete horror. Of course, Gary was just having fun, not meaning to frighten anyone; silly us. He came over to the car, shook Matt’s hand, introduced himself and invited him in for, you guessed it; a game of darts.
I was mortified, but Matt was a good sport and went along with it.
The darts were gathered, the line was drawn and the stakes were set. Gary announced that whoever won would get me. If I had had any sense of self worth at the moment, it would have drained completely from my being.
My husband bet me on a game of darts, priceless.
Matt, being the gentleman that he was, smiled, chuckled as if he knew Gary was joking and proceeded to kick my husband’s arrogant ass with his throwing prowess.
Matt won the game and went home, alone without his prize.
Much to my relief, I am happy to say that that event did not deter Matt from bringing me home in the future. If anything, it convinced him that maybe it was a good idea after all to leave my husband and try to start a new life, on my own with my children.
Upon his urging, Matt also convinced me to confide in my parents what had been going on and to ask for their help.
For the first time I actually had the nerve to consider the possibility that life could be better and that I might actually find the strength to leave him.
Jesus Christ if not for me, for my kids.
Why does that keep happening to me? I just never see it coming; constantly being blindsided.
So I guess it should not have come as any surprise to me the day he came home from work and informed me that he had quit his job, gone down to the local 7-11, spoke to the manager about me and got me a job.
I was to start Monday.
Stunned silence is how I would describe that moment.
I was so shy and introverted. At that point in my life I was not even capable of calling the pizza parlor for delivery. I just did not have the strength to speak up for myself or call and ask for a fucking pizza. The thought of going to this convenience store and announcing that I was here to start working, and actually being expected to interact with people, was beyond anything that I could physically do; let alone walk into an establishment and say, “here I am, my husband got me this job”.
It isn’t so much that I found the strength and courage to go; it’s that I didn’t have the strength or courage not to.
I thought that my life was going to be over.
Working at the bank was different, it was almost all phone work; I was comfortable there and I felt secure.
Up until that point, I hadn’t had my soul ripped out yet.
I did not think I could do it, but nothing came to mind as to how to get out of it. Getting ready for my first day was like slow torture. I was scheduled to be there at 4 pm. I don’t recall ever being that nervous. I didn’t have a choice though. I was so afraid of my husband at that point; I had to risk humiliation at the hands of a convenience store customer rather than piss him off.
I don’t know what I expected to happen. Hind sight tells me that I was not going to be randomly killed by a customer unhappy with their buttered roll, or laughed at by hoards of coffee-drinking patrons; but the fear was still there. I just could not shake that. Or was it the fear I had of pissing off my husband. I can’t imagine what he would have done if I had decided not to go, and forced him back to work. Maybe it was a little bit of both.
Since we only lived five blocks or so from the store, I would walk to work so Gary could keep the van. That first day, I walked slower than I ever have before. I kept thinking if I take my time, and really walk as slow as possible; maybe I’ll never get there. Wrong.
I showed up, stood in the candy isle and just looked at the floor, shaking so hard I could hardly stand up without falling, my legs were trembling so bad. It’s a good thing that the woman who was working there at the time was kind. Her name was Cheryl and she must have known who I was and why I was there. She called me over and asked if I was Nancy. Barely speaking above a whisper, I said yes, and proceeded behind the counter.
At that time, all 7-11’s had delis. So not only did I have to learn how to run a cash register, I had to learn how to slice meat. God I was not going to make it. Customer service, greeting customers and slicing meat, this was too much. I was a goner for sure.
All I know is that once I stated that job, I felt liberated. I missed my children very much, but it was a relief to get out of the house and mix with other people. And you know what; I was good at it.
Not saying much you say, well, I took pride in what I was doing. It wasn’t brain surgery, I didn’t need a college degree to do it, hell, I didn’t need my high school diploma to do it, but that didn’t matter. I was doing a job and I was doing it well.
I had pretty much lost all confidence since quitting my job at the bank. When you are slammed down psychologically day after day, you just can’t seem to see the light at the end. But this job let me start to see it. There was a light at the end and eventually, the kids and I would be ok and not dependant on Gary for anything.
The people I worked with were really nice. We all seemed to get along very well. It was one of the only times I actually relaxed.
It’s funny how things happen. I was so frightened to go to that job and now I couldn’t wait to get there. Little did I know that it would be a major turning point in my life. It’s there where I met Matt; the man who would become my best friend, biggest ally and future husband.
As it turns out, I loved running that cash register. Back then, you had to manually put in the amount and whether it was taxable or not. You remember those big ugly, and very loud brown registers. I can remember as a kid checking out at the A & P, watching the cashiers ringing up my mom’s items. That is what I wanted to do. So, there is yet another of my childhood dreams come true.
Convenience store shoppers are very interesting. Some can be so obnoxious that you almost stop believing that most people are good. There is a group of people, all ages and sizes and all colors and religions, that feel they are better than the average working person. They are, in my opinion, the lowest of the low. Trash if you will. Why some people feel that they are obligated to treat the working class like shit made my life miserable, but only until I realized that it truly was their problem and not mine, and thank God they were a minority.
I was starting to get it, life is what you make it, and not how you let other people manipulate or control you. You have the power to change it, even though those around you won’t.
I’m now 54 years old and still trying to remember that. Aghhhhh
Then you have the men that for some reason, feel that they are studs, when they obviously are not. I had one group of men roll in one early morning on their way home from the docks. Their boat must have come in sometime during the night, and they had had a few too many drinks before heading home. One of the fishermen approached the counter and proceeded to tell me what a great mouth I had and then felt the need to describe what he wanted me to do with my very voluptuous lips. I declined his offer, rang up his order, and he left unsatisfied.
I had finally progressed to the point of saying no to sex when I didn’t want it. No brainer you say. I shudder to think what I would have done a few years earlier. Would I have taken this drunken fisherman into the back room and man handled his mackerel simply because I didn’t think I could say no? We’ll never know, but God I hope not. That move would have graduated me from pathetic to hopeless.
Then you have people who are just plan decent; happy, friendly and pleasant, just looking to purchase their items and go home. The majority of the people that I met during my time at 7-11 were great. I formed some lasting friendships during those days in the early eighties that I still have today.
I hadn’t worked at the 7-11 more than a day or two when the man that would change my life walked through the door. His name was Matt and he was gorgeous. God I can still remember the way my stomach felt when he introduced himself to me. Butterflies would be an understatement. I still get them from time to time when he looks at me a certain way, after almost 30 years together.
Matt would come in for coffee every night. He knew the other people that worked in the store, so he always stopped to chat. He was a fixture there in the evenings. I started to look forward to his visits. He would stay an hour or so, just talking to all of us.
It is the friendship that I developed with Matt that would change me forever. I looked forward to going to work every day. It was hard to leave my children, most of the time with my parents, but I could get out of my house and away from my husband. I was safe there, and they really seemed to like me.
I had stopped caring what I looked like some time before. When you are browbeaten every day, and physically terrorized, you tend to stop worrying about the little things like giving a shit about how you looked, as long as you had on long sleeves to cover the bruising.
I had a new friend and I smiled again. As the weeks went on, we grew closer and closer. He would come in after work for his coffee and then again in the evening for more coffee. I could count on seeing him at least twice during the weekdays and three times on weekends. He would come in on his way home from the bar and tell me all about his evening. I was so interested in everything he said. One evening he was telling me about two women who he liked but didn’t know which one to concentrate on.
It never occurred to me that I was one of those women.
By this time, I was developing a very large crush on him. It was getting harder and harder for me to deal with my husband. Here was this man that I met at the 7-11 treating me better as a friend than my husband treated me as his wife. I was so confused.
Eventually, Matt and I became closer than he and my co-workers. He was becoming, in my mind, more than just a friend.
It seemed I could talk to him about anything. It was a pleasant relief to speak to a man who didn’t judge me, or call me names, and just seemed interested in what I had to say.
It was also very refreshing not to have canned goods, tables and lit matches hurled at me.
There were times when he would come back to the store when my shift had about an hour left and help me stock the freezer, clean up the place, and just be company for me.
It is those times that I started to tell him about my troubled marriage and what I was going through at home. I confided in him that I wanted to leave my husband, but was too afraid to. I was lost and didn’t know what to do. I was too ashamed to tell my parents or sisters how bad it was; they would worry and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be seen as a failure in their eyes either.
My family isn’t like that; they would have been supportive and loving, just like they have always been. It was my pride and immaturity getting in the way once again.
We spoke at length about what had been going on, and he urged me to try one more time to make it work. We had two children together and if I could just convince Gary that his behavior was not acceptable and his drug habits had to be addressed, and then we might have a chance.
On some of the evenings that I had to walk home from work at midnight, Matt would come in at about eleven, and then drive me home. I wasn’t allowed to use the van and remember; Gary had already crashed and ruined my little orange moped.
Now, I had told Gary all about Matt; how he was friends with everyone in the store and was just a nice guy. Gary was not threatened or intimidated. He thought it was great. Not that he would come and drive me home, but it meant that even if it was raining or snowing, he was off the hook. The kids could stay sleeping and he could continue to do whatever it was that he was doing.
On one occasion, when Matt pulled up to the house, Gary was outside, with a machete, swinging at the holly tree in the front yard. I cannot describe to you the look on Matt’s face. It was one of complete horror. Of course, Gary was just having fun, not meaning to frighten anyone; silly us. He came over to the car, shook Matt’s hand, introduced himself and invited him in for, you guessed it; a game of darts.
I was mortified, but Matt was a good sport and went along with it.
The darts were gathered, the line was drawn and the stakes were set. Gary announced that whoever won would get me. If I had had any sense of self worth at the moment, it would have drained completely from my being.
My husband bet me on a game of darts, priceless.
Matt, being the gentleman that he was, smiled, chuckled as if he knew Gary was joking and proceeded to kick my husband’s arrogant ass with his throwing prowess.
Matt won the game and went home, alone without his prize.
Much to my relief, I am happy to say that that event did not deter Matt from bringing me home in the future. If anything, it convinced him that maybe it was a good idea after all to leave my husband and try to start a new life, on my own with my children.
Upon his urging, Matt also convinced me to confide in my parents what had been going on and to ask for their help.
For the first time I actually had the nerve to consider the possibility that life could be better and that I might actually find the strength to leave him.
Jesus Christ if not for me, for my kids.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Whips, ropes and chains oh my
There I was, a young woman in my twenties and as fridge as the fresh driven snow; I liked sex just as much as the next person. BUT, let me tell you, it’s very different when you are afraid of the one person in the entire world that you should be the most comfortable with.
For me, frigid meant not being able to have intercourse without about a gallon of Vaseline, literally. Having my body tighten up so quickly and rigidly that it was almost a certainty that nothing was going to penetrate it without a great deal of the before mentioned lubricant and liberal amounts of booze.
The libido is a funny thing; when you are in fear, the body just does not want to respond, to anything, let alone sex. At least mine didn’t.
It also had to do with respect. I thought I loved him but I had no respect for him. That in itself is a downer of huge proportions.
It doesn’t lend itself to passionate and stolen moments together if you’re worried about what he’s going to do next.
As I said before, when your man looks at you and says, “close your eyes” and you are afraid to, you tend to keep one eye open. Well, the same applies when he wants to tie you up.
We had never been into the bondage scene before; it had never even been discussed; shit I didn’t know there was a bondage scene up to this point. I should have seen it coming though. One of our friends had a sister, who along with her husband, were very into all aspects of bondage, whips and other equipment that I could neither explain nor comprehend.
I’m not talking about wrists tied to the bedpost with a pretty silk ribbon, nooooooo. I mean they had thousands of dollars worth of bondage toys, dildos the size of prize winning zucchinis, ropes, boards, and costumes.
It was during a party at my friend’s home, that her sister excitedly told Gary and I about a night of passion that she and her husband had shared just then night before.
I knew I was in trouble, this was going to be more information that I ever wanted to know about this couple.
It seemed that her husband left her tied to a bondage board, naked, for over four hours. He just tied her up and went out. If that had been me, with my luck, the house would have caught fire and there I would be…… naked tied to a board looking like I was waiting to be filleted.
Well, hellooooooo Mr. Fireman…. God!!!!
Was this woman angry when her husband got home, nope, said it was the best sex she had ever had. I was wayyyyyy out of my league and over my head with this shit.
I knew my husband had showed some interest in this sort of thing with our friends because of all the questions he would ask when we happened to be together at a party or whatnot. But it never occurred to me that he would implement it into our sex life, which at this point was almost nonexistent.
So when I got home from my job at the 7-11 at a little after midnight one evening, you might say that I was in for a bit of a shock; to say the least. Our children were at my parents for the night and all I wanted to do was climb to my perch, alone and sleep.
My shift at the 7-11 was 4:00pm to midnight and I was dead on my feet.
Oh, had I mentioned that Gary decided he didn’t want to work any longer so he quit his job at the block company and got me one at the local 7-11?
“Hi honey, you start your new job on Sunday, have a nice day.”
That story is for another day.
Our house was a little house. When you walked into the front door, you were in the living room. There was a short hallway in the living room that went straight to a closet; to the left and right a bathroom and a bedroom.
So, upon walking in the front door, you could turn and take five steps to this doorway.
There were candles all around the living room. A movie projector was situated in front of the doorway and a sheet was placed on the front window… Now, if we had had a normal marriage, I might have been pleasantly surprised, willing to give it a try. But at this point in my marriage, I did not like sex, nor did I ever look forward to it.
It was then that I noticed the eye hooks, three of them, one was screwed in on each side of the doorway and one on the top; hanging like little nooses from each hook was a rope.
This cannot be good.
You can’t imagine what was going through my mind. I am not a prude, but the thought of being tied up spread eagle in the doorway, movies playing on the front window, (I can just imagine what the neighbors thought) and candles everywhere; this was definitely not what I had in mind for the evening, ever.
I had a momentary vision of Fay Wray in King Kong. Tied up and waiting for a fate worse than death at the hands of a giant, gigantic, beast.
All I needed was a ring of flowers for my hair and the scene would have been set. I could actually hear the native’s drums in the distance. I must have been hallucinating.
Unfortunately, I look nothing like Fay Wray and my beast was not a giant ape turned gentle by the lovely maiden. Mine was a husband who happened to be a nut.
Well, instead of telling my new bondage partner that I wasn’t interested, I just looked at him, gave him my best smile, and muttered something inaudible that he took for as a yes.
Ladies, never ever do this if you are afraid or if you reallyyyyy don’t know your partner too well. I knew him, I but I was very afraid of him. This is not a good combination.
I felt like a Thanksgiving turkey ready to be carved.
Once things began to happen all I could do was grin and bear it. He didn’t hurt me but to say the least I was humiliated. Like I said before, if this is not something that you are into, it’s not enjoyable; it‘s awful.
Unfortunately for me, the fun wasn’t over. Gary was ready for round two. For him, the door jams were not his cup of tea, so off to the bedroom he went, (remember, we have bunk beds).
When he was ready, I was summoned to the bedroom. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw; there he was, tied up like a pretzel between the top and bottom bunk.
He resembled a bull that had been hogtied. I actually didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or run.
If I hadn’t been so intimidated, it would have been the funniest, strangest thing I had ever seen. Maybe disturbing would be a more appropriate word to use?
Houdini would have envied the expertise at which he tied himself up.
Now, if all of this wasn’t enough, when all was said and done, I went to bed. Happy that I had survived what turned out to be our first bondage session.
It just keeps getting better and better.
What I didn’t know was that my stud muffin hadn’t taken the hardware out of the door. Soooo, when a mutual male friend came over the following morning the first thing he did was stare at the hooks with the ropes still hanging down from them. Thank God he didn’t see the 5 gallon painter’s bucket of KY sitting nearby.
After what seemed like an eternity, he started to laugh and continued to laugh until he nearly wet his pants.
I guess what made matters worse for me was that my husband proceeded to tell him exactly what we had done the night before.
Now, there’s a gentleman for you.
I am happy to say that we didn’t repeat that particular bondage scenario very often.
Luckily for me, Gary had a hobby; it was called the Silver Dollar.
Every weekend that’s where you would find him; front row center so as not to miss a move from one of the exotic dancers that worked at this very classy establishment. Dancing women, beer and darts; life was good.
The extra bonus for my husband was one of the dancers was the very same woman who was tied to the bondage board all evening. Hell, maybe Gary would get lucky. Shit, doesn’t every woman want her husband drooling over a friend or acquaintance? Perfect.
That was a thorn in my side, but I refused to let the other wives know I hated it.
The other wives were furious that their husbands spent their weekends there and couldn’t understand my caviler attitude. Why wasn’t I upset that my spouse was spending as much time as he could looking at other women, half naked, putting on quite show, just for him.
They had no idea that I was just as torn and upset, just couldn’t show it. Once again I didn’t think I was attractive enough to object.
I had even asked if I could go with him from time to time. My warped little mind thought that if we went together it would strengthen our relationship.
I do believe that I could be the case for why some animals eat their young…
At times I believe the gray matter in my brain must have been tampered with. That’s the only logical explanation. I couldn’t be that stupid, could I??
If these women weren’t happy with me before, they were definitely not pleased with me now.
It was their feeling that If Gary could go to the strip joint without his wife complaining then they could go too. Strength in numbers I guess.
Of the many problems that I refused to see about this situation was the money, the drinking and the affect it had on my little ones.
Drunk does not describe it.
My parents had invited my family over to celebrate my birthday, along with my mother-in-law. By the time we were ready to sit down for my feast Gary showed up. Drunk, high and about as obnoxious as you could possibly be.
I will never know how my dad controlled the rage that he must have felt that night. My mother-in-law was mortified and Gary left before dinner was over.
I cried, yet again. But, I still stayed.
My self confidence at this point was so low that I allowed him to take away what little pride I had left.
What I have learned from all of these situations is that no one can take your pride, confidence and self worth away from you; you have to give it. I allowed him take everything I had.
I couldn’t have known to what degree my self-loathing had reached until Gary brought one of the strippers home; to our home.
With our babies fast asleep in their room and me on my perch asleep in our room I was awoken to sounds of laughter; two men and two women.
My husband brought home a mutual friend and two dancers. I woke up and just sat there, in my room listening.
Drinks were flowing and the atmosphere seemed upbeat and intimate; it was a little party goin on in there and I wasn’t invited.
When our friend left with his “date”, my husband and his very own personal dancer proceeded to have sex on my couch as I just sat there in my room and cried, very softly so as not to let him know I was awake.
It’s funny, Gary had cheated on me before, but never like this. I hadn't realized the total disregard he felt for me, our kids and our marriage until now. What a fool.
So, what would any normal, decent woman do if her husband showed at up at midnight with a stripper named Bambi? I didn’t storm out of the bedroom and demand that they both leave. I didn’t make a sound, and to make matters worse, I didn’t let him know that I had heard. After a time she left, he came to bed and all was quiet.
It was then, and only then, that I realized that maybe spending all your waking hours at a strip club could be detrimental to your marriage.
I was too embarrassed to leave the bedroom. My opinion of myself was so low that I was sure they would have laughed at me for having the nerve to interrupt them. I wasn’t pretty or thin so who the hell was I to object.
I actually thought that I was too ugly to intervene.
Pathetic does not describe my inability to act.
After that night, my mind was filled with ways to make the Silver Dollar inadmissible; to disappear. As if burning the building down was going to make my marriage better. This is how my mind worked back then; get rid of the building and the dancers and all would be ok.
It was complicated; or so I made it out to be. In all actuality, it was very simple. Throw him out, change the locks and get a restraining order.
If only……
For me, frigid meant not being able to have intercourse without about a gallon of Vaseline, literally. Having my body tighten up so quickly and rigidly that it was almost a certainty that nothing was going to penetrate it without a great deal of the before mentioned lubricant and liberal amounts of booze.
The libido is a funny thing; when you are in fear, the body just does not want to respond, to anything, let alone sex. At least mine didn’t.
It also had to do with respect. I thought I loved him but I had no respect for him. That in itself is a downer of huge proportions.
It doesn’t lend itself to passionate and stolen moments together if you’re worried about what he’s going to do next.
As I said before, when your man looks at you and says, “close your eyes” and you are afraid to, you tend to keep one eye open. Well, the same applies when he wants to tie you up.
We had never been into the bondage scene before; it had never even been discussed; shit I didn’t know there was a bondage scene up to this point. I should have seen it coming though. One of our friends had a sister, who along with her husband, were very into all aspects of bondage, whips and other equipment that I could neither explain nor comprehend.
I’m not talking about wrists tied to the bedpost with a pretty silk ribbon, nooooooo. I mean they had thousands of dollars worth of bondage toys, dildos the size of prize winning zucchinis, ropes, boards, and costumes.
It was during a party at my friend’s home, that her sister excitedly told Gary and I about a night of passion that she and her husband had shared just then night before.
I knew I was in trouble, this was going to be more information that I ever wanted to know about this couple.
It seemed that her husband left her tied to a bondage board, naked, for over four hours. He just tied her up and went out. If that had been me, with my luck, the house would have caught fire and there I would be…… naked tied to a board looking like I was waiting to be filleted.
Well, hellooooooo Mr. Fireman…. God!!!!
Was this woman angry when her husband got home, nope, said it was the best sex she had ever had. I was wayyyyyy out of my league and over my head with this shit.
I knew my husband had showed some interest in this sort of thing with our friends because of all the questions he would ask when we happened to be together at a party or whatnot. But it never occurred to me that he would implement it into our sex life, which at this point was almost nonexistent.
So when I got home from my job at the 7-11 at a little after midnight one evening, you might say that I was in for a bit of a shock; to say the least. Our children were at my parents for the night and all I wanted to do was climb to my perch, alone and sleep.
My shift at the 7-11 was 4:00pm to midnight and I was dead on my feet.
Oh, had I mentioned that Gary decided he didn’t want to work any longer so he quit his job at the block company and got me one at the local 7-11?
“Hi honey, you start your new job on Sunday, have a nice day.”
That story is for another day.
Our house was a little house. When you walked into the front door, you were in the living room. There was a short hallway in the living room that went straight to a closet; to the left and right a bathroom and a bedroom.
So, upon walking in the front door, you could turn and take five steps to this doorway.
There were candles all around the living room. A movie projector was situated in front of the doorway and a sheet was placed on the front window… Now, if we had had a normal marriage, I might have been pleasantly surprised, willing to give it a try. But at this point in my marriage, I did not like sex, nor did I ever look forward to it.
It was then that I noticed the eye hooks, three of them, one was screwed in on each side of the doorway and one on the top; hanging like little nooses from each hook was a rope.
This cannot be good.
You can’t imagine what was going through my mind. I am not a prude, but the thought of being tied up spread eagle in the doorway, movies playing on the front window, (I can just imagine what the neighbors thought) and candles everywhere; this was definitely not what I had in mind for the evening, ever.
I had a momentary vision of Fay Wray in King Kong. Tied up and waiting for a fate worse than death at the hands of a giant, gigantic, beast.
All I needed was a ring of flowers for my hair and the scene would have been set. I could actually hear the native’s drums in the distance. I must have been hallucinating.
Unfortunately, I look nothing like Fay Wray and my beast was not a giant ape turned gentle by the lovely maiden. Mine was a husband who happened to be a nut.
Well, instead of telling my new bondage partner that I wasn’t interested, I just looked at him, gave him my best smile, and muttered something inaudible that he took for as a yes.
Ladies, never ever do this if you are afraid or if you reallyyyyy don’t know your partner too well. I knew him, I but I was very afraid of him. This is not a good combination.
I felt like a Thanksgiving turkey ready to be carved.
Once things began to happen all I could do was grin and bear it. He didn’t hurt me but to say the least I was humiliated. Like I said before, if this is not something that you are into, it’s not enjoyable; it‘s awful.
Unfortunately for me, the fun wasn’t over. Gary was ready for round two. For him, the door jams were not his cup of tea, so off to the bedroom he went, (remember, we have bunk beds).
When he was ready, I was summoned to the bedroom. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw; there he was, tied up like a pretzel between the top and bottom bunk.
He resembled a bull that had been hogtied. I actually didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or run.
If I hadn’t been so intimidated, it would have been the funniest, strangest thing I had ever seen. Maybe disturbing would be a more appropriate word to use?
Houdini would have envied the expertise at which he tied himself up.
Now, if all of this wasn’t enough, when all was said and done, I went to bed. Happy that I had survived what turned out to be our first bondage session.
It just keeps getting better and better.
What I didn’t know was that my stud muffin hadn’t taken the hardware out of the door. Soooo, when a mutual male friend came over the following morning the first thing he did was stare at the hooks with the ropes still hanging down from them. Thank God he didn’t see the 5 gallon painter’s bucket of KY sitting nearby.
After what seemed like an eternity, he started to laugh and continued to laugh until he nearly wet his pants.
I guess what made matters worse for me was that my husband proceeded to tell him exactly what we had done the night before.
Now, there’s a gentleman for you.
I am happy to say that we didn’t repeat that particular bondage scenario very often.
Luckily for me, Gary had a hobby; it was called the Silver Dollar.
Every weekend that’s where you would find him; front row center so as not to miss a move from one of the exotic dancers that worked at this very classy establishment. Dancing women, beer and darts; life was good.
The extra bonus for my husband was one of the dancers was the very same woman who was tied to the bondage board all evening. Hell, maybe Gary would get lucky. Shit, doesn’t every woman want her husband drooling over a friend or acquaintance? Perfect.
That was a thorn in my side, but I refused to let the other wives know I hated it.
The other wives were furious that their husbands spent their weekends there and couldn’t understand my caviler attitude. Why wasn’t I upset that my spouse was spending as much time as he could looking at other women, half naked, putting on quite show, just for him.
They had no idea that I was just as torn and upset, just couldn’t show it. Once again I didn’t think I was attractive enough to object.
I had even asked if I could go with him from time to time. My warped little mind thought that if we went together it would strengthen our relationship.
I do believe that I could be the case for why some animals eat their young…
At times I believe the gray matter in my brain must have been tampered with. That’s the only logical explanation. I couldn’t be that stupid, could I??
If these women weren’t happy with me before, they were definitely not pleased with me now.
It was their feeling that If Gary could go to the strip joint without his wife complaining then they could go too. Strength in numbers I guess.
Of the many problems that I refused to see about this situation was the money, the drinking and the affect it had on my little ones.
Drunk does not describe it.
My parents had invited my family over to celebrate my birthday, along with my mother-in-law. By the time we were ready to sit down for my feast Gary showed up. Drunk, high and about as obnoxious as you could possibly be.
I will never know how my dad controlled the rage that he must have felt that night. My mother-in-law was mortified and Gary left before dinner was over.
I cried, yet again. But, I still stayed.
My self confidence at this point was so low that I allowed him to take away what little pride I had left.
What I have learned from all of these situations is that no one can take your pride, confidence and self worth away from you; you have to give it. I allowed him take everything I had.
I couldn’t have known to what degree my self-loathing had reached until Gary brought one of the strippers home; to our home.
With our babies fast asleep in their room and me on my perch asleep in our room I was awoken to sounds of laughter; two men and two women.
My husband brought home a mutual friend and two dancers. I woke up and just sat there, in my room listening.
Drinks were flowing and the atmosphere seemed upbeat and intimate; it was a little party goin on in there and I wasn’t invited.
When our friend left with his “date”, my husband and his very own personal dancer proceeded to have sex on my couch as I just sat there in my room and cried, very softly so as not to let him know I was awake.
It’s funny, Gary had cheated on me before, but never like this. I hadn't realized the total disregard he felt for me, our kids and our marriage until now. What a fool.
So, what would any normal, decent woman do if her husband showed at up at midnight with a stripper named Bambi? I didn’t storm out of the bedroom and demand that they both leave. I didn’t make a sound, and to make matters worse, I didn’t let him know that I had heard. After a time she left, he came to bed and all was quiet.
It was then, and only then, that I realized that maybe spending all your waking hours at a strip club could be detrimental to your marriage.
I was too embarrassed to leave the bedroom. My opinion of myself was so low that I was sure they would have laughed at me for having the nerve to interrupt them. I wasn’t pretty or thin so who the hell was I to object.
I actually thought that I was too ugly to intervene.
Pathetic does not describe my inability to act.
After that night, my mind was filled with ways to make the Silver Dollar inadmissible; to disappear. As if burning the building down was going to make my marriage better. This is how my mind worked back then; get rid of the building and the dancers and all would be ok.
It was complicated; or so I made it out to be. In all actuality, it was very simple. Throw him out, change the locks and get a restraining order.
If only……
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Darts, machetes and more
Life as I knew it, as bad as it was, was about to get worse and I never saw it coming.
I had my husband, my children and my little house. .
I got what I had always wanted; a family all my own. It’s funny isn’t it, how you can want something so much that you refuse to see it for what it really is. The Reed’s we were not.
Now, the friends that had drifted pretty much out of my life, suddenly were coming back, mostly because of Gary and the fact that we had a house now too. It’s always good to have another place to party. It didn't hurt that my husband could get you almost anything you wanted, if you wanted to party seriously that is; uppers, downers and anything in between.
The name of the game back then besides getting high was darts. The boys played darts at our house, their house, bars; it didn’t matter where, just so long as they could play.
Gary hung our dart board on the linen closet door and put permanant tape on the floor in the living room to show you where to stand. You didn't want to cross that line now; that would be cheating.
This game would prove to be more than a game in the not to near future.
I didn’t mind so much that that’s all these people wanted to do, it was the mood that it put my husband in if he lost. Winning was great, but losing, that was another story entirely. Losing a dart game to friends could put my dear husband into a mood that I can only describe as dark. He hated to lose.
With my children all tucked in their beds, the parties went on.
We still went to other homes as well, and on one occasion I was actually the envy of my not so close girl friends.
Everyone was pretty high at this point; my husband was passed out in the other room and the kitchen was full of drink, drugs and darts. My drug of choice by then was beer, just beer,so I took my sober self and my beer and went into their second living room to just get the hell out of that scene.
It isn't easy being the only sober person in a room of say 10 or 15 people.
You have to realize that I wasn't the girl I used to be. I had gained 60 pounds when I was pregnant with Shayne and 30 more with Brittany and I hadn’t’ taken it off yet. I was working my way up the fat chain and was now a size 18. I was huge. So, it was a surprise to me when our friend Chris came in, sat down and initiated a very intimate conversation.
Chris was ok. His family owned the house next to Gray’s parent’s house where we had partied so many times. We didn’t see him often, but when he was down the shore, he partied with us.
He was a few years older than I was; thin, curly hair but cute.
He was also the lover to several of my married friends. I believe the term that you would use today is friends with benefits. Back then I called it adultery.
Their husbands had no clue. You know what, maybe they did and didn’t care; maybe they had their own little benefits-thing going on, all I know is that I had never been approached by him for a tryst nor had I initiated one.
It never occurred to me to cheat. What is it that they say about nice girls?
So, when Chris planted himself next to me on the couch and started up the conversation by telling me I was the prettiest woman of all our friends, I was pretty surprised, and nervous. What the hell was that all about and where was this going.
I took a long drink of my beer, blushed and muttered an inaudible thank you.
Of course, his next sentence was to ask how I could let myself get so fat and out of shape. Talk about a downer, but you know me, don’t hurt his fucking feelings. I just agreed and tried to justify my weight gain to him.
We sat there for over an hour talking before one of our friends, one of his lovers, came in, gave us a snide comment about how cozy we looked and left.
Not more than week had gone by when Chris showed up at my home, pushed me on the couch and kissed me. He was stunned when I pushed him away. The look on his face was of complete shock.
What the hell was he thinking?
It seems that since I was the only one of his lady friends that he hadn’t slept with, he felt the need to not only add me to his list, but to do me the favor of sleeping with me. Since I was overweight he assured me that I wouldn't have any other prospects and that he would be glad to "to it" with me.
What I have learned ever so slowly is that if you let people hurt you and take advantage of you, they will. I wish I'd known that then.
I jumped up and just stood there; not angry or feeling violated in any way; to put it in the simplest of terms, I was hurt. Words cut like a knife and the wounds don't ever seem to go away.
With that said, even with everything that Gary had done to me I just could not comprehend cheating on him and I certainly didn't want to be a "pity fuck".
I asked him to leave and never told anyone.
Life of a suburban housewife!. Hell we could have had a hit show on HBO.
You all know that Gary worked for a block company right? Well, every day, little by little, there were cinder blocks piling up on the side of my yard. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was going to do with all these blocks.
Make a tomb to put me in, build an addition to the house, construct a fence around our home? Nothing could have prepared me for the goal that this man had in mind.
Gary was going to build a pool, our very own cēment pond.
The pool was an above the ground model. Jesus if he had started digging a huge hole I would have been sure it was for me.
The pool was approximately eight feet by eight feet and about four or five feet high. It was completely lined top to bottom and ran off its very own filter.
Who needs a pool company when you have my man?
It wasn’t big but it did the trick. Eight people could easily be in it at a time. I believe I went in it once or twice; certainly not more than five times. I think that I had a fear of him drowning me. He on the other hand went in often. He would get in the pool and sit on the bottom. This man could hold his breath longer than anyone I knew. He would also take a tube to breathe through so he could sit on the bottom longer.
Come to think of it, had I given it any thought at all I could have perfected my Weeki Wachee mermaid swim routine in that pool. I had always admired those women; this could have been my big chance.
It could get scary because he was usually stoned or high when he went in, and got very angry with me when I would ask him to please get; I had no desire to find him floating in that damn thing.
Nope, he was fine. I don’t know another person who got off just sitting on the bottom of a pool to meditate. It takes all kinds I guess.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me. This is the guy who would strap an aqualung on his back, jump into the river and tie himself to the railroad trestle and walk along the bottom of the Manasquan River, visibility 0 inches.
When we split up and sold our home, the pool was still standing. How in the world would you describe that in a real estate brochure?
One project down, many more to go. My husband loved a good project.
What to do, what to do. What could be his next project.
He set his sights on our beautiful custom van.
I had to give it to him, he did have an imagination. Some of the things he came up with were very clever; others, not so great.
You remember our van don’t you? The one that we had on our honeymoon when my butt was violated by the female Mounted Police of NY.
When we bought this van it beautiful, the airbrushed American eagle on the side of it, our colors so proudly displayed, red, white and blue. The inside was thick red shag carpet on the walls and floor. It had a bed and a refrigerator. It was perfect.
NOT FOR LONG.
For reasons unbeknown st to me, he decided to gut it. He took everything out down to the metal frame.
I don’t know why I was surprised, this man had a turquoise Pinto when I met him. He decked that pinto out like nothing you have ever seen. He took out the normal steering wheel and put in one of those real small ones. The entire dashboard was carpeted and complete with little figures all over it, Army men, buttons, little trees. You name it, it was on it. You could actually see the dashboard display from other cars.
The Pinto was a small car, and when Gary got done with it, it looked like a pimp mobile for midgets. Huggy Bear he was not.
So, when he decided to make improvements to the van, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
We were now the proud owners of a metal tube with wheels and an engine.
Freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer. Perfect.
But wait, it gets better.
He wanted the van to be cool, as if it wasn’t before. So, he drilled two large holes in the floor at the back of the van and two large holes in the roof and proceeded to put very large exhausts stacks right through the floor of the van and out the roof. Isn’t that the coolest thing you have ever heard of?
Exhaust stacks emitting toxic fumes and burning hot to the touch with two small babies in tow. You cannot make this shit up.
He strapped a reclining chair in the middle of the van and along with the two seats in the front, what could be better? That was it, our new family vehicle.
Child seats were not mandatory and rarely used by anyone then so that wasn’t an issue.
To say that my parents were pissed is an understatement. Besides being furious with Gary, they couldn’t understand why I had let him do that to our one and only means of transportation.
Little children, hellooooooooooooooo.
They must have overlooked the fact that I was a walking, talking lobotomy victim.
Although I hated these projects of his, they did manage to keep him happy and busy, most of the time.
Gary’s temper was getting worse and I was just as ill prepared to handle it as I was before I had the kids. I should have packed up the kids and gone home to my parents. But I didn’t, not even after he did the unspeakable.
It was a normal afternoon for me, Gary wasn’t home and I was alone with the kiddies.
Brittany was napping in her Jenny Lind crib and Shayne and I were in the living room. I don’t know why Gary was in such a rage when he got home, but I could tell that he was high. At that time, his likes turned from just drinking and pot to acid and angle dust.
Whatever high he was on that day, it wasn’t a good one. Our house was small, and when he came out of our bedroom with the machete, I grabbed Shayne, ran into their bedroom where Brittany was sleeping and slammed the door shut.
Time seemed to slow down at this point. Gary came in the room, raised the sword and swung at the crib. I don’t think he even saw that Brittany was in there. I grabbed Brittany, and along with Shayne, we sat frozen and terrified on Shayne’s bed. We couldn’t get out, Gary's body blocked the door.
When it was all over, Brittany’s crib was nothing more than a pile of kindling.
Gary left the room and if I remember correctly, went out.
Luckily for my little girl, she was too young to remember or comprehend what was happening.
For Shayne, I'm sorry to say, that must have haunted him for a long time to come.
Did I leave yet? Nope! I stayed; made excuses to myself for his behavior, cleaned up the mess and went on as usual, too afraid to tell anyone for fear of their reaction or actions that they might take.
That is one of the many instances that I will never forgive myself for. I couldn’t have stopped him, but I could have protected my children the way a parent should; I should have left after calling the police.
I didn’t stay because I needed a man. I stayed because I was so afraid of this man. It wasn’t just physical either. My husband had a way of systematically belittling and brow beating me to the point I didn’t think I had a choice.
Unfortunately, I also believed his apologies and was sure that he would change. His tears always seemed sincere and I always believed him.
Shame on me!
I had my husband, my children and my little house. .
I got what I had always wanted; a family all my own. It’s funny isn’t it, how you can want something so much that you refuse to see it for what it really is. The Reed’s we were not.
Now, the friends that had drifted pretty much out of my life, suddenly were coming back, mostly because of Gary and the fact that we had a house now too. It’s always good to have another place to party. It didn't hurt that my husband could get you almost anything you wanted, if you wanted to party seriously that is; uppers, downers and anything in between.
The name of the game back then besides getting high was darts. The boys played darts at our house, their house, bars; it didn’t matter where, just so long as they could play.
Gary hung our dart board on the linen closet door and put permanant tape on the floor in the living room to show you where to stand. You didn't want to cross that line now; that would be cheating.
This game would prove to be more than a game in the not to near future.
I didn’t mind so much that that’s all these people wanted to do, it was the mood that it put my husband in if he lost. Winning was great, but losing, that was another story entirely. Losing a dart game to friends could put my dear husband into a mood that I can only describe as dark. He hated to lose.
With my children all tucked in their beds, the parties went on.
We still went to other homes as well, and on one occasion I was actually the envy of my not so close girl friends.
Everyone was pretty high at this point; my husband was passed out in the other room and the kitchen was full of drink, drugs and darts. My drug of choice by then was beer, just beer,so I took my sober self and my beer and went into their second living room to just get the hell out of that scene.
It isn't easy being the only sober person in a room of say 10 or 15 people.
You have to realize that I wasn't the girl I used to be. I had gained 60 pounds when I was pregnant with Shayne and 30 more with Brittany and I hadn’t’ taken it off yet. I was working my way up the fat chain and was now a size 18. I was huge. So, it was a surprise to me when our friend Chris came in, sat down and initiated a very intimate conversation.
Chris was ok. His family owned the house next to Gray’s parent’s house where we had partied so many times. We didn’t see him often, but when he was down the shore, he partied with us.
He was a few years older than I was; thin, curly hair but cute.
He was also the lover to several of my married friends. I believe the term that you would use today is friends with benefits. Back then I called it adultery.
Their husbands had no clue. You know what, maybe they did and didn’t care; maybe they had their own little benefits-thing going on, all I know is that I had never been approached by him for a tryst nor had I initiated one.
It never occurred to me to cheat. What is it that they say about nice girls?
So, when Chris planted himself next to me on the couch and started up the conversation by telling me I was the prettiest woman of all our friends, I was pretty surprised, and nervous. What the hell was that all about and where was this going.
I took a long drink of my beer, blushed and muttered an inaudible thank you.
Of course, his next sentence was to ask how I could let myself get so fat and out of shape. Talk about a downer, but you know me, don’t hurt his fucking feelings. I just agreed and tried to justify my weight gain to him.
We sat there for over an hour talking before one of our friends, one of his lovers, came in, gave us a snide comment about how cozy we looked and left.
Not more than week had gone by when Chris showed up at my home, pushed me on the couch and kissed me. He was stunned when I pushed him away. The look on his face was of complete shock.
What the hell was he thinking?
It seems that since I was the only one of his lady friends that he hadn’t slept with, he felt the need to not only add me to his list, but to do me the favor of sleeping with me. Since I was overweight he assured me that I wouldn't have any other prospects and that he would be glad to "to it" with me.
What I have learned ever so slowly is that if you let people hurt you and take advantage of you, they will. I wish I'd known that then.
I jumped up and just stood there; not angry or feeling violated in any way; to put it in the simplest of terms, I was hurt. Words cut like a knife and the wounds don't ever seem to go away.
With that said, even with everything that Gary had done to me I just could not comprehend cheating on him and I certainly didn't want to be a "pity fuck".
I asked him to leave and never told anyone.
Life of a suburban housewife!. Hell we could have had a hit show on HBO.
You all know that Gary worked for a block company right? Well, every day, little by little, there were cinder blocks piling up on the side of my yard. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was going to do with all these blocks.
Make a tomb to put me in, build an addition to the house, construct a fence around our home? Nothing could have prepared me for the goal that this man had in mind.
Gary was going to build a pool, our very own cēment pond.
The pool was an above the ground model. Jesus if he had started digging a huge hole I would have been sure it was for me.
The pool was approximately eight feet by eight feet and about four or five feet high. It was completely lined top to bottom and ran off its very own filter.
Who needs a pool company when you have my man?
It wasn’t big but it did the trick. Eight people could easily be in it at a time. I believe I went in it once or twice; certainly not more than five times. I think that I had a fear of him drowning me. He on the other hand went in often. He would get in the pool and sit on the bottom. This man could hold his breath longer than anyone I knew. He would also take a tube to breathe through so he could sit on the bottom longer.
Come to think of it, had I given it any thought at all I could have perfected my Weeki Wachee mermaid swim routine in that pool. I had always admired those women; this could have been my big chance.
It could get scary because he was usually stoned or high when he went in, and got very angry with me when I would ask him to please get; I had no desire to find him floating in that damn thing.
Nope, he was fine. I don’t know another person who got off just sitting on the bottom of a pool to meditate. It takes all kinds I guess.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me. This is the guy who would strap an aqualung on his back, jump into the river and tie himself to the railroad trestle and walk along the bottom of the Manasquan River, visibility 0 inches.
When we split up and sold our home, the pool was still standing. How in the world would you describe that in a real estate brochure?
One project down, many more to go. My husband loved a good project.
What to do, what to do. What could be his next project.
He set his sights on our beautiful custom van.
I had to give it to him, he did have an imagination. Some of the things he came up with were very clever; others, not so great.
You remember our van don’t you? The one that we had on our honeymoon when my butt was violated by the female Mounted Police of NY.
When we bought this van it beautiful, the airbrushed American eagle on the side of it, our colors so proudly displayed, red, white and blue. The inside was thick red shag carpet on the walls and floor. It had a bed and a refrigerator. It was perfect.
NOT FOR LONG.
For reasons unbeknown st to me, he decided to gut it. He took everything out down to the metal frame.
I don’t know why I was surprised, this man had a turquoise Pinto when I met him. He decked that pinto out like nothing you have ever seen. He took out the normal steering wheel and put in one of those real small ones. The entire dashboard was carpeted and complete with little figures all over it, Army men, buttons, little trees. You name it, it was on it. You could actually see the dashboard display from other cars.
The Pinto was a small car, and when Gary got done with it, it looked like a pimp mobile for midgets. Huggy Bear he was not.
So, when he decided to make improvements to the van, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
We were now the proud owners of a metal tube with wheels and an engine.
Freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer. Perfect.
But wait, it gets better.
He wanted the van to be cool, as if it wasn’t before. So, he drilled two large holes in the floor at the back of the van and two large holes in the roof and proceeded to put very large exhausts stacks right through the floor of the van and out the roof. Isn’t that the coolest thing you have ever heard of?
Exhaust stacks emitting toxic fumes and burning hot to the touch with two small babies in tow. You cannot make this shit up.
He strapped a reclining chair in the middle of the van and along with the two seats in the front, what could be better? That was it, our new family vehicle.
Child seats were not mandatory and rarely used by anyone then so that wasn’t an issue.
To say that my parents were pissed is an understatement. Besides being furious with Gary, they couldn’t understand why I had let him do that to our one and only means of transportation.
Little children, hellooooooooooooooo.
They must have overlooked the fact that I was a walking, talking lobotomy victim.
Although I hated these projects of his, they did manage to keep him happy and busy, most of the time.
Gary’s temper was getting worse and I was just as ill prepared to handle it as I was before I had the kids. I should have packed up the kids and gone home to my parents. But I didn’t, not even after he did the unspeakable.
It was a normal afternoon for me, Gary wasn’t home and I was alone with the kiddies.
Brittany was napping in her Jenny Lind crib and Shayne and I were in the living room. I don’t know why Gary was in such a rage when he got home, but I could tell that he was high. At that time, his likes turned from just drinking and pot to acid and angle dust.
Whatever high he was on that day, it wasn’t a good one. Our house was small, and when he came out of our bedroom with the machete, I grabbed Shayne, ran into their bedroom where Brittany was sleeping and slammed the door shut.
Time seemed to slow down at this point. Gary came in the room, raised the sword and swung at the crib. I don’t think he even saw that Brittany was in there. I grabbed Brittany, and along with Shayne, we sat frozen and terrified on Shayne’s bed. We couldn’t get out, Gary's body blocked the door.
When it was all over, Brittany’s crib was nothing more than a pile of kindling.
Gary left the room and if I remember correctly, went out.
Luckily for my little girl, she was too young to remember or comprehend what was happening.
For Shayne, I'm sorry to say, that must have haunted him for a long time to come.
Did I leave yet? Nope! I stayed; made excuses to myself for his behavior, cleaned up the mess and went on as usual, too afraid to tell anyone for fear of their reaction or actions that they might take.
That is one of the many instances that I will never forgive myself for. I couldn’t have stopped him, but I could have protected my children the way a parent should; I should have left after calling the police.
I didn’t stay because I needed a man. I stayed because I was so afraid of this man. It wasn’t just physical either. My husband had a way of systematically belittling and brow beating me to the point I didn’t think I had a choice.
Unfortunately, I also believed his apologies and was sure that he would change. His tears always seemed sincere and I always believed him.
Shame on me!
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