Love, An Unfinished Portrait

This is my account of the ten most influential, romantic women of my life. It'll make you love, laugh, cry, hate, and come back around and respect me......hopefully.

Introduction

 

 

            When it comes to my perspective life’s a funny mother f****r. Part of my fortune in life, especially the latter half, is being graced with the presence of some incredible females. All together I’m pretty lucky, taking my mother for instance. She is the strong, beautiful, intelligent woman whom raised me. Speaking of beauty, do you know how many times I’ve been told how beautiful she was growing up? Let’s just say if I only had a nickel every time. Having that woman as my mother helped me understand beauty.

            It wasn’t only seeing the world aesthetically through her eyes, but seeing the beauty in people, which is way more than skin deep. Not that my mother lacked in that department, obviously, but the majority of her beauty came from that gorgeous soul of hers. It emits this loveliness which accents or ameliorates the existing physical, yet is enshrouded to the normal eye. Seeing that aura was an incredible plus to the people she knew, and it weeded out the ignorant who couldn’t and therefore didn’t deserve her. I thank her for teaching me what beauty is, because having her as my mother gave me a point of reference which helps me find the most beautiful people no matter their creed, race, or area. My mother also gave me that similar aura which helps them find me.

            Romantically speaking I’ve been blessed with some incredible women as well. I learned so much from them all and our experience I feel an uncontrollable urge to express this through my words. With ten of the women from my past in chronological order you’re going to see my progression through love and what I’ve learned. I will stress everything and how important they were. Two of whom I hold most dearly, Milly and Emmy, you will see I’ve learned the most from.

            My stories are not all puppies and rainbows, so you will find an array of emotions through this piece. You’ll love me, despise me, laugh out loud, possibly want to cry either from sadness or sweetness, and hopefully find your way back around and respect me.

            I often use the noun man loosely because one of the things I detest is the inequality throughout this world. You may thank my mother for that one, too. Bottom line, if you are a “man” you should behave accordingly and carry yourself with a degree of respect; and that’s respect for yourself and anyone else. There should never be a double standard, like if a woman sleeps with multiple partners she’s then seen as a s**t. Ask yourself, if you sleep with an undetermined amount of partners are you in turn a s**t? Men especially should look at that question. Points similar to that, among others, I will do my best to emphasize.

            Since I’m only 30 you might ask “what the f**k is a thirty year old writing memoirs for?”

            “I do it for my folk and those of another pigment.” That is a Jump Off Joe Bizzy quote; and another of his which applies is “[if] you don’t feel what the pencil scripts than eight times outta ten you ain’t been through s**t.” It is not a necessity to have been through anything to read this. I only hope that you will be amused, feel it in your heart, and grasp some useful information. Any who, if you’re down for the ride here we go.

 

 

Mackenzy

 

 

            In order to bring it back to where it all started I will speak of my first girlfriend ever, Mackenzy. She was early, early in life and obviously began to form the cadre of women to come. I may not be a s**t in anyone’s eyes, and nowhere near Wilt the Stilt’s numbers; but I am a s**t to the extent I’m a guy and a hopeless romantic. I’ve been given the companionship of 30+ women throughout thus far in one capacity or another. This doesn’t mean I had physical and romantic contact with them all. It simply means they meant something. I’m not sure of the exact physical number because I’ve never made “the list” nor will I. They’re all my fortune and no one else’s, and I feel no need to share this with anyone. Some things in life are only meant to be yours. However, I will speak of ten as said, having met my first “girlfriend” when I was five years old in pre-school. Notice the quotations around “girlfriend”, because we’re talking pre-school here.

            Mackenzy came shortly after my first crush, Aerial from The Little Mermaid. But Mackenzy didn’t have red hair; she had beautiful curly blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes. I even remember her full name, which is a funny reference later. Given she’s on this list it’s because she holds significance to me.

            For one the natural prepubescent attraction we had, allowing her to become my first “girlfriend” kind of established my leanings sexually. That’s for me anyhow. Last I heard she was living happily in Vermont with her girlfriend. Notice the lack of quotation marks there? Props, but anyway, I liked girls and I liked her. She was a lot of fun to hangout with in school, from a five year old's point of view. Aside from that, she would end up holding a different significance later on in life.

            Although that time with her took place in my hometown, at one point before the end of pre-school her parents’ ended up moving her to the capital of the state. Afterwards I didn’t see her for some time, but our fates would intertwine again.

            One of my best friends is Drew; and like my other friend Daniel our fates were merged before we even knew. Drew and I apparently were in that same pre-school together, and there’s even a photo of us on stage with Mackenzy in the middle. We also apparently played on a basketball team together at the Boys and Girls Club. Then nearly a decade after that we ended up working at the same convenience store together. One of our mutual customers and old friends showed us the picture of that basketball team, which she was on, too. Coincidentally her name was Aerial. However she didn’t have red hair, usually weaves. Since it took a third party to show us this you can tell Drew and I barley recall any of our youth with one another.

            Working together him and I became friends, and even went on a smoke ride one day with his roommate Smiles. The three of us are taking back roads toking on a blunt, and we somehow got on the subject of our women in life. I forget the contextualization, but he refers to one by saying “Mackenzy.” I chuckle lightly and say “that’s funny; my first quote/unquote girlfriend’s name is Mackenzy and I still remember the entire thing.” Then I proceeded to say her first, middle, and last. Now given that Smiles and he were roommates and had been for a couple years, Smiles was noticeably savvy to Drew’s romantic history. After I said Mackenzy’s full name they both turned to each other with dramatic pause, then started laughing hysterically. This had nothing to do with the blunt. On a sub-serendipitous level Mackenzy had came back to my area to go to college and held romantic importance to one of my, would be, best friends.

            The role she played for him would be Drew’s unicorn. That’s a term I use and it holds the same context as a white buffalo. They are rare as can be, and are considered to hold sacred or spiritual heart. She was sacred to him, yes, yet more romantic in this sense. Unicorn to us unfortunately means intangible creature of fantasy, as well. Mackenzy and Drew never even slept together. Unheedingly, unicorn nonetheless. I’ll speak of my unicorn later.

            Regardless of whatever happened between them they remain friends to this day. They’re mature and except the past for what it is. The only thing I can say is that it was pretty cool to become friends with her as an adult; hanging out from time to time and conversing. One of my other best friends I mentioned, Daniel, I’ve known since fourth grade. Like with Mackenzy, he gives me a sense of where I’ve been, and that’s part of the reason they hold such importance to me. They give me so much more of a contextual reflection.

            Even if Drew and I’s relationship is platonic, there’s serendipity to it with the pre-school, the basketball team, the convenience store, and Mackenzy. Even Daniel and I have a previous connection barely remembered with a baseball team he and I were on that his dad coached. As a result no matter whether it’s platonic or romantic, I’ve found that in a relationship an unforeseen countenance can be good. It adds a degree of importance, or perfect chance. It’s at least similar to praying; it doesn’t hurt. You’ll see moments later on when that previous connection was important to me, them, or both.

            Mackenzy was my first somewhat romantic experience with a woman; and in hindsight that is what she meant to me. She’s intelligent, funny, and creative; which set a tone for one’s to come. I’ve never had a specific type, but brains, humor, and creativity are a common thread between them all, and you’ll see this with the other nine of which I write. You’ll also see how this whole game of love is unpredictable.

            Daniel asked me once “what gets you out of bed every morning?”, and that was simple for him. His two children, one of them adopted, he loves so much with all of his heart and would do anything in this realm of existence for them. They are the driving force for that man’s life and the reason he’ll rise tomorrow. I respect and love him so much for that. Me lacking that type love for children, blood or not, I had no clue why I rose.

            In many ways we walk through life blindly. With some we’re caught in a parable of the cave, accepting shadows for what we’re told they are. With others we use incorporeal entities to explain the unexplained. In most cases, though, no matter our expectations or itinerary, we wake everyday having no clue what might happen. That ignorance, I thought, was my reason for rising everyday. In my observable universe it is the possibility of greatness and opportunity which are the driving factor. It’s love. The ones I love, and to which love me, are the reason I feel I’m the luckiest dude ever. Experiencing new people and things, as well as enjoying the ones already loved. Surrounding myself with new atmospheres and environments, and keeping the ones I’ve found. It’s immersing myself into the lives of incredible new people; holding tightly to the ones already there. If you ever wanted to know why I’ll get up tomorrow, that’s probably why.

            No matter how much love can be a well placed distraction in this life, why should it be questioned? It comes so natural; it is so awesome and fascinating; and it’s so old it’s been around as long as us as a species. No matter my longing desire for someone else, my second girlfriend, or experience, wouldn’t be for quite some time. There may have been someone in sixth grade, but I was such an inexperienced nervous little s**t nothing transpired; though it was the first girl’s bedroom I saw. But alas, it’d be eleven years until my second important romantic interest. Nevertheless, Mackenzy was the relationship that showed me women were my calling, and that Serendipity herself existed.

 

 

 

 

 

Cassy

 

 

            Eleven years after Mackenzy I met my first true love; if high school puppy love can be construed as such? Cassy came about when I was sixteen, sophomore year, and had become the third bass in the school band drumline. She was a freshman flutist I hadn’t even noticed, yet. That is until one night at the movies.

            I don’t know about you, but that was what my friends and I did the first couple years of high school every weekend. Daniel and I were doing so beforehand at an even younger age. I suppose those were the days you could be left alone as a child and parents didn’t have to worry. In high school though, we’d bullshit around at the mall and then walk over to see a movie. One can arguably say that the movie theatre was the thing as a teenager. One of these said nights I stepped outside for a cigarette and saw Cassy standing against a wall by herself, and we caught each other’s eye. I began talking with her; but chances are she said something first; and she already knew who I was being one of the “cool” guys in the drumline. That is a BIG emphasis on the quotation marks there; but anyhow, we spoke and things proceeded.

            Cassy was waiting for her date and/or boyfriend to finish up from using the bathroom inside. As far as I was concerned that was impeccable timing on his part. While alone, she told me that we were in band together and right then he came outside. Having learned that piece of knowledge that was that; I said “nice to meet you” and we parted ways that night. She and I had one of those instant rapports you only find with some people in life. In other words we clicked instantly, as if our lives had already intertwined.

            I remember the way she looked at me made me feel important; and when I think of her smile it’s like I saw it yesterday. Cassy made me feel good. I believe this is the first time I wrapped my head around the idea of reciprocation, before I even knew what that concept was or meant. All I knew was she begun to stand out to me in band and the halls. My friends were already doing their romantic thing in one way or another, so I had been patiently waiting for my opportunity. There may have been a few girls beforehand; even my later unicorn for a short period; but they never went beyond school nor school related things like dances and clubs. Cassy and I would speak again exchanging numbers, and a couple weeks later she’d leave her new boyfriend for me.

            We happened to each other at the exact right time. Both of us had been ready and searching for our first love. Cassy had a crush on me to begin with, so when our feelings became mutual we were in love within the first thirty days of our life together. She came over to my place after our first week and thanks heaven my mother was a busy woman, which gave Cassy and I some private time. My new girlfriend and I ended up making out a bit, and then she went south and gave me head. It wasn’t my first blowjob, but holy f**k was it incredible! By the end of our first month we lost our virginity together. Even with the timeline of a week and month for our first couple milestones, I hope nobody has the word s**t come back to mind. Because with any women in my life no matter what role, I quote Talib Kweli to sum it up. “Anything but queen I go to war like a king.” You can call me anything you’d like, though.

            Cassy was a very special and important woman to me being my initiation into love. We were so googly eyed for each other it was ridiculous. So in love we exchanged notes back and forth everyday if not class period. Some of you might not be familiar, but we used to write love notes to each other before texting; and we were right on the cusp of this transition. I am the world’s luckiest mother f****r and there’s always reason. I wish this fortune upon everybody, but I lost my virginity to somebody I love.

            As said I was sixteen; Cassy being fifteen. A couple of funny notes from our sex-capades were such. One, the first time we ever had sex she was on her period. My reasoning was that there’d be blood anyway, and she concurred. Plus we were filled with so much anticipation it was reaching the point nothing would deter. The second note involves my mother walking in on us.

            She was a busy woman so Cassy and I had a lot of alone time together. One evening however I projected my mother’s arrival wrongly. Cassy and I were making love hard on my bed; a waterbed. In the middle of this we heard my mother come in the front door upstairs. I stopped penetrating for a second and we looked at each other like deer in headlights. Although we stopped having sex, my bed did not. That’s the thing about having sex on a waterbed…the momentum keeps you going whether you are or not. So when my mother opened the door to say hello the crashing of waves was echoing throughout. This was a basement room with an enclosed staircase mind you, so my mother didn’t actually see anything. When she said hello I replied “hi mom, I’m here with Cassy”, and my mother said “oh” and began to come downstairs. I adamantly said “mother stop; stop”, and she paused and said “ok.” I explained Cassy and I were busy and my mother understandingly went back upstairs. Being young and having not a care in the world Cassy and I finished right quick. When we went upstairs to leave, my mom had this look of reluctance to accepting the situation. Her baby was growing up and she didn’t know it! The next day she gave me a paper bag of condoms from the clinic, and I said “mom, we buy Trojans.”

            Cassy and I’s relationship lasted a year. I don’t recall what exactly ended us, but I do remember one of my “friends” sleeping with her on the side later in that year. If anything that taught me what a true friend was; hence why the one’s present to this day are more like my brothers. That was high school, though, so bah! It’s to be expected and who cares beyond that? In regard to what makes a true friend there is an example with Daniel. We’ve known each other officially since fourth grade and there’s good reason we’re still friends at thirty years of age.

            In our mid-twenties Cassy would come into Daniel’s place of business. This was more than once, so they were flirty with one another and leaning towards something physical. All the same, before anything happened, he made it a point to call me and ask for my approval since she was my first love. After he asked I thought about it for a hot second and approved willingly. It had been ten years so why would I care? But I do respect him so much for asking.

            Like I said, we lasted a year; and there was a short period after where we were friends with benefits. That obviously resulted with sex in various places. I got head in the shed once while smoking a bowl. Not a utility shed; it was a chill spot my father gave me at his place. All I can say is that fellatio overruled the weed and I eventually put the bowl down quickly. Speaking of dick in mouth, that reminds me.

            This should actually be taken seriously, but one thing I learned from Cassy was how to treat a woman with more care and fairly. At the time I hadn’t placed the act of sucking my dick so willingly on the pedestal it should’ve been. On a side note head while I’m driving wasn’t the easiest thing in the world since I had a manual. I’ve met women who are more willing to have sex before giving head, and that’s for good reason. Anyone should value when somebody gives themselves to you like that. Retrospect is funny since after Cassy I didn’t meet someone giving head so amiably for over a decade. I’m paraphrasing Joss Stone, but that would make karma the master and me the b***h. I took Cassy giving me head all the time for granted and I think that’s terrible on my part. Hence why it took ten years to find someone else so willing, because well before then I finally stopped expecting it and really stopped caring whether or not they did. A sexual act should never be expected from another person.

            Cassy will forever hold a special place in my heart and I value the time we had together SO much. I kind of feel bad that things modulate and I didn’t give her the romantic fantasy life we discussed so much in those love notes. I still have those notes to this day and will never throw them away. They’re great to pull out sometimes every few years or so, because like music they take me instantly back to when they were first discovered. Like the sheer thought of Cassy, they remind me of a beautiful happy time growing up. Cassy was the relationship that showed me the greatest thing in the universe; love from a romantic perspective.

 

 

 

 

 

Tammy

 

 

            Tammy was my first relationship after Cassy; my transition period if you will. I was seventeen and a junior in high school, and Tammy was nineteen and my manager at the movie theatre. Go figure I’d get a job where I met my first love Cassy? I hate saying it, but Tammy would be my first relationship of convenience. I call it that in this sense because I believe we happened due to proximity.

            We were attracted to each other so I pursued her physically. However, Tammy needed something more fortified to be physical. One day kissing around a corner at work she asked “wait, are we a couple?” since I had never asked her once to be my girlfriend. I’m an absolute a*****e in this story, and I’m sure you can agree with that assessment. The more fucked up thing about it is that I was taking advantage of the situation. Tammy was nineteen and still a virgin. She had saved herself for two years in a relationship through high school and college which didn’t work out. I had already lost my virginity; and so did everyone else we worked with at the theatre. You can imagine when we spoke of certain subjects she felt out of place, even being the oldest one there. She almost felt pressured to catch up even though there was no need to do so. I remember the other eighteen year old manager and friend saying, “Just do it already.”

            A couple months into our relationship Tammy chose me to take her virginity, and I complied easily. At that age the thought of a second virgin choosing me was pretty appealing. Having seen her a couple times since our time, I can tell she doesn’t like me to this day, with just reason. She wanted to know what sex was as a sophomore in college, but wanted there to be love, too. Sorry to say there was no love between us, and I feel pretty s****y looking back as a result. I unfortunately hadn’t associated the value of losing mine to someone I loved, yet. The worst part about it is that I dropped the L word a couple of times after the fact in order to appease her. Being a lawyer’s son I chose my words grammatically careful. I didn’t say I love you; I said I love it when. Kind of like, “oh, I love it when you do that.” I was a reckless, selfish kid.

            This wasn’t a terrible relationship, though. We had fun together hanging out, watching movies after hours for free in the theatre, and going to amusement parks from time to time. When it came to sex, though, I remember her having this look of discomfort often. I suppose getting used to it varies from virgin to virgin, but Tammy seemed strikingly prudish to the situation. I wasn’t a pro, but at least a qualified amateur. I’m good at reading people and the air of a situation, and she had regrets if I’m not mistaken.

            I remember a study of men and women’s biggest regrets out of UCLA; give or take 30,000 people all together. It may not be entirely representative, but implies most likely. The top three answers for both sexes were sexually related. Be that as it may, two different contexts for both sides. For women: moving too fast sexually, cheating on a partner, and number one losing their virginity to the wrong partner. For men: not being more sexually adventurous in their youth, or when single, and failing to make a move on a perspective sexual partner. I simply think that the time Tammy and I had gives some validity to that study. Except that I don’t have regret for lack of effort, just the effort itself.

            I wasn’t stupid and had a nice idea of what her virginity meant, but I carried myself with voluntary ignorance. I don’t think any woman stays a virgin half way through college to have it mean nothing. She most likely wanted her first time to be perfect while blissfully in love. Instead she got a horny teenager who knew the weight of it all and handled things like legal proceedings. The first time we had sex I remember asking more than once beforehand “Are you sure you are ready?” to make sure she was aware of her actions. In hindsight she probably wishes it’d been her previous long term boyfriend rather than me.

            No matter it being her outright decision and that we were attracted to each other, I was still a selfish d********g. I wish I could’ve been a better man, but that wasn’t the case. Though being with Tammy did help shape me into the man I am today; I’m just sorry it had to be her who did so. Did this shine a positive light on my character at the time? No, obviously. The reason she holds significance is how that relationship molded me and what I learned.

            I learned how fragile a woman’s heart can be. I don’t mean fragile in a bad way, but rather thinking of a woman’s love as hydrogen hypothetically. For one it’s a component which brings life to 99% of everything throughout our world. Secondly, when hydrogen is combined with oxygen; err say a man’s love; it creates a slow and beautiful process resulting in sustainable life most often. Hydrogen and oxygen, or two people’s love, end up making a magnificent circumstance. But if a third component is introduced at the wrong time accelerating the end result, figuratively speaking explosive violence ensues. The third component happened to be a few things in our case.

            The influence of her coworkers or work friends didn’t help. Our speech and actions almost insisted her to already lose her virginity. And my desires and douchery were just the icing on the cake. I hurt Tammy and know this, grievously.

            Tammy was neither the first nor the last woman I would hurt emotionally throughout life. The fact that it included her virginity just held a lot of symbolism to me and I assume her. After her I began taking a woman’s heart a little more seriously. Having that experience made me positively hate hurting and being the catalyst to pain. To make the epitome of beauty feel that way is something one should never do. Think before you do anything because every action has a reaction. She also taught me I need the trifecta when it comes to a sustainable relationship. And I don’t mean honesty, communication, and reciprocation which are how one carries on successfully; but rather an intellectual, emotional, and physical attraction. Tammy and I lacked the emotional and I’m sorry that wasn’t realized, pin pointed, or coined until years later.

            Tammy and I roughly lasted six months before I broke up with her. When I did she even mentioned me saying the L word, but I corrected her like a lawyer.

            “But why? You said that you love me!”

            “No, I didn’t. I said I love THIS particular thing about you; or I love it WHEN you do this. I most certainly did not say I love YOU.”

            Since I figured that conversation would be bad enough I put my two week notice in before I did, partly because of a new general manager. But ultimately I did so because I was a scared, weak, little boy in order to avoid the awkwardness that would happen. In that result I learned to not f**k where you make your money. I’d make that mistake again, but at least knew the consequences the second time around. Having another first hand experience of someone giving me their virginity taught me more care and consideration than anyone else could for someone else’s heart. If anything, understand we had that much. Tammy, like Cassy, was considerable preparation of how to treat a woman. This came in handy considering I met my unicorn next. Tammy was the relationship that would serve as the 102 course in the inner workings of a woman’s heart; to the extent of what little I know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emmy

a.k.a

my unicorn

 

 

 

            With a majority of the women here I can remember their entire name; first, middle, and last. Whether or not that holds significance I don’t know? That is the case with Emmy, though. I remember everything about her. There was her beautiful mind and ethics, her incredible creative side, and her dark hair and olive skin. She is my unicorn or intangible creature of fantasy anymore. Emmy was the longest relationship I ever held, and in consideration I was married once that says something. We became an item Valentine’s Day of senior year in high school. We would end that same day three years later.

            Emmy was a gorgeous American with Mexican parents and had a very sharp creative mind. What’s funny is that by law of attraction I feel we sometimes create our own destiny. It’s as if we write the plot in our heads, the world is our stage, and the scenes ensue. When I decided I wanted a brindle pit my baby Mercy found me working outside all astray. That was her astray, but I suppose that can apply to me, too, in a funny sense. When I decided I wanted an old school Mustang a gentleman happen to come to my gas station with an original 64 ½  pretty little Ford burgundy. I asked if it was for sale and low and behold he was asking for as much as I was willing to pay. My point is that although Emmy may be the only Latina woman I’ve been with, I always had a thing for Latina women beforehand. My favorite celebs growing up were Daisy Fuentes, Christina Aguilera, Vida Guerra, etc. The fact that Emmy would be my love and happen to be on the same caliber as those women was all too perfectly written.

            Our paths had crossed already having gone to that same pre-school mentioned before. There’s even a photo of HER and I on stage together. That particular reason is why I believe in a serendipitous aspect to life. How uncanny is it that Drew and I, friends later on, rubbed elbows with the women that’d become our own unicorns? That is why life is a funny mother f****r from my perspective.

            Our paths crossed again freshman year of high school where we were both techies for the drama club. Although it was fun and funny as hell doing a stage adaption of Willy Wonka, I only did drama club for one year, and the fates would say it was to meet her. We were both attracted to each other and flirted back and forth everyday we were there. Our flirting was so much so I remember it gave me the nerve to pull her into a room one night at an after party. We kissed like there was no tomorrow, and I was even allowed to get to second base with her. Her breasts were perfectly beautiful, and her n*****s were like pieces from the game Trouble. That was a great evening, but woe is me we kissed like that because apparently there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Emmy wasn’t in the right place for us at the time. I even received a letter explaining such. However, it was ok because we would find each other again. We had unknowingly first crossed paths at about four or five years of age. A decade later it’d happen again on more of a personal level freshman year. Then it happened again three years later as young adults. The timing was perfect then.

            A communications class a friend and I took called upon us to make a video one day. When we were walking around the halls for footage we happen to come across Emmy and her friend, asking them to help us. It had been some time since we really had seen each other, but it was like drama club all over again. Since Emmy and I had already had something I may have been more interested in her friend at first, but it was so sick how quickly we gravitated towards each. When filming, she and I were flirty behind the curtains on that same stage we did so freshman year. Because of our history, pre-school not known yet, and the reciprocation I saw, Emmy became an interest of mine. The hardest thing about relationships I’ve learned thus far is timing. Well it was absolutely perfect this time falling beautifully into place.

            Due to stupidity and/or lack of effort I was retaking a semester of freshman English senior year. The teacher I was given happened to be the authoritative figure for the year book club, which Emmy was a member of. After our moment behind those curtains I started to notice her more; catching eyes with her throughout the halls from time to time. I also noticed there were Valentine’s bags on the window sill of that fateful English class I was taking. They were labeled with names and hers stuck out to me. It was easy knowing it belonged to her since she was the only Emmy in our 200 plus graduating class, and that the only members of that year book club were seniors. Therefore I was given a god damn V-day bag for the beautiful woman I was interested in again. Could anyone ask for a more perfect scenario? One Friday I saw this opportunity and took hold. I grabbed pen and pad and did what I do best, words. Perfect words sequenced perfectly.

            I mentioned our time freshman year and that I was ok with what happened understandingly. I stated I had interest and would like to see more of her outside of school. I also said if she didn’t feel the same way it was ok, but no matter what I had to take the chance. There may have also been a few flattering adjectives peppered in between, naturally so. At the bottom of the note I left my number and said to call me. She actually did so later that day when I was walking to work. That was the only time I was eager to answer a number I didn’t know. I was happy, she reciprocated! It being Valentine’s Day itself I asked her out to dinner later that evening, mentioning I’m off work at nine. I was working a jewelry kiosk at the mall at this time, and actually saw her there a couple hours later. I remember the smile she had in my presence was the most beautiful thing in the world. Later when I was off she picked me up and we dined at the “neighborhood bar and grill”. That’s in quotations because it’s a franchise; chances are it’s been coined and patented.

            Blame it on the older generations I hung out with a lot as a child, or the movies and books from youth, but I was an old school gentleman when it came to woman. You open doors for them, pay for at least the first meal, etc. On our first date the funny thing was something happened any guy would fear. The bill came and I didn’t have as much money as I thought. I paused for a second, thinking in my head “s**t!” but never getting upset. After thought I did the only thing a gentleman could do and came out with truth.

            “Umm, this could be kind of embarrassing, but I don’t have enough money with me to cover the bill and tip. You wouldn’t happen to have some cash to cover the rest would you?”

            “How much do you need?”

            “We only need eight more dollars for the bill and however much of a tip you’d like to leave.”

            “Alright, it’s ok.”

Emmy’s response was incredible; not condescending, but rather empathetic. She just chuckled, smiled, and pulled out her wallet. Take that note; anytime you find yourself in an emasculating situation, just be f*****g honest. For us, from a chemistry point of view, every component and measurement were right that evening. It was the best first date, ever. The rest was history for about 1,095 days.

            Those latter days of high school were spectacular with her. I stayed with a pair of headphones on between classes; but when I walked with her to and from they stayed off! This was in order for me to take in and enjoy every little part of her being. Her eyes accompanied with that smile are completely tattooed on my brain. So is the dragon fly tattoo over her right breast, and the cute little lizard to the upper left of her va-jay. The dragon fly was an actual dragon with butterfly sort of wings; and the lizard was pretty cool because where it faded made it look camouflaged. We spent so much time together loving every second. She’d pick me up sometimes for school in her dad’s big ol’ dually truck. Call it a home state thing, but there’s something so sexy about a petite pretty woman stepping out of a huge truck in a dress. I loved it when she wore a dress because of the easy access; playing with her p***y while she drove down the road. The physically with her was some of the most incredible I’ve had.

            Aside from before and after school we spent many nights together since she was practically a roommate rather than daughter for her mother. Emmy covered most of the bills with a night warehouse job she worked a couple nights a week. Her mother worked nights, too, so that gave us privacy. The first time we had sex I remember walking in as instructed and going up to her room. She opened the door wearing this beautiful, silky, red negligee and pulled me in like I did to her freshman year. We started to kiss and burn calories. That was a great night and as I write of it, I’m smiling right now. We spent many evenings together being night owls alike. When we were together I’d walk my amorous a*s over to her place after work when she was off. That was only about five miles or so, but I was a f*****g walker. And no, that’s not a zombie reference. We just wanted to be together for as long as we could, even through the wee hours. I loved her so much I actually out ran a train for her once.

            To set this up about a half mile from my place there were railroad tracks to be crossed, and no other way around it. On my way one night, a tad less than a quarter mile from the crossing, I heard a train off in the distance. From experience I knew this would impair my progression and I’d have to wait for that train to pass. I said to myself “f**k that noise” and took off running. I was booking it as fast as I could in a pair of Timbs and a hoodie, with an extra fifteen pounds in my backpack. I decided nothing was going to keep me from seeing her any sooner. I saw the train coming through the tree line, hearing it blare its horn to warn those near. By the time I crossed I saw that iron behemoth out of the corner of my eye about fifty yards to the right. I wasn’t too worried about beating it; something told me it’d happen. At the time we hadn’t said it, yet, but I loved that woman and only wanted the absolute most time with her possible. Ok, maybe there was a slight worry about lethally tripping, but that’s part of the fun in life; calculated risks. There were a lot of those with her.

            Before we were involved she had already determined she’d be moving to Florida with her father after graduation. Fellsmere, FL, to be exact. Just to give you an idea of Fellsmere it was the equivalent of Paw Paw, WV, and last Wikipedia told me Paw Paw had a graduating class of nine people. That doesn’t reflect on intelligence, just numbers. Fellsmere was unfortunately set in motion before me.

            When things started with us we only expected it to last until then. We were just going to enjoy our senior year to the fullest extent. But when that moving day came and I helped her pack, our true hearts came out. That was when we first said “I love you” and decided we couldn’t let go. When I drove away to let her leave I could still see the tears rolling down her cheek. We did it, though; we tried the long distance relationship.

            Despite a nearly thousand miles between us our love grew exponentially. That’s when she merged into the unicorn status. That’s funny considering she was 965 miles intangible. In letters and phone calls we spoke of each other in such an alluring, angelic tone; with articulation comparable to Shakespeare or D.H. Lawrence. It’s unfathomable how much my pretty little Mexi loved me and I her. In order to clarify my little Mexi is not racist; just a pet name that transpired. There were a couple others as well like ‘my little’ by itself, and ‘pobrecita’, which is kind of like the Spanish version of the former. Seriously, she felt so lucky to have me and very, very vice versa. Alas, you can imagine what a toll that distance had on us; especially if you’ve attempted such.

            When Emmy was in Florida I was working at a book printing factory. I’d work three days on, four days off, alternating from week to week. She happened to have some time off once which she was using to meet up with an old friend. Actually it was her first love, but this didn’t bother me because emotional proximity and choice means a lot. When a woman has eyes for you they are normally singular. Anyhow, they planned on meeting up in North Carolina. Luckily though this man was about as dependable as he was when they first knew each other, so he fell through. Since I had off the next few days it became a great break for us. We decided to meet up at the halfway point between us, which happened to be NC. We both drove for hours to meet up in some rinky dink town next to the interstate. That was one of the best times in my life. Not because it was only a total of 23 hours together which the majority of which was spent having sex. It was rather because we hadn’t seen each other in months and were finally in each other’s arms. On a funny note if you’re a couple: when renting a room make sure there are two beds; one for f*****g and one for sleep. It’s so much cleaner to not sleep amongst copious amounts of your own bodily fluids. That day was on a certain level that I would make that trip a billion times over if it were to have the same result.

            I would drive to Fellsmere eventually to see her for a week, but due to monetary reasons for higher education I wasn’t able to move there. Aside from my reasoning, in hindsight that was a selfish decision and I wish I would’ve chosen otherwise. Not moving to Florida was a contributing factor which would end up ruining us.

            Emmy moved to Florida partly because of where she had grown up. It’s a confused place full of veterans and was actually third on list in drug trafficking during the late eighties. It went New York City, Los Angeles, and our home. That should give you the tone for the s**t seen growing up around there. It’s a good place, but like most things a double edged sword. Living on one of the main drug streets during her youth she had an incident with one of the pushers. Emmy was maybe ten years old and walking to her house from the school bus one day and this corner dude had the f*****g gumption to try to sell to her. She reacted rightfully so reaming him out and basically saying the equivalent of f**k you from a ten year old's mouth. Emmy has always had figurative gahones like that, partly why I love her. Besides that experience and reason, she was also moving because she hadn’t lived with her father, yet, who had always lived between her state and Florida from season to season. From my observation one thing I’ve always seen around our home was that it brings one desire out: Get the f**k out! So I understood her mentality completely.

            Emmy accomplished that and did so. But like 90% of all who do she ended up moving back, and I was responsible for that. Not by request, because I couldn’t ask her to curb a dream. She did because she loved me and wanted to be in the same bed night after night. This is my opinion (the whole f*****g book really), but moving back did bring a degree of animosity with it. I can’t say one way or another, but I feel it was a contributing factor towards our ultimate demise.

            This phrase meant nothing to me in understanding until then, but Emmy and I had all of our eggs in one basket. We banked our happiness off of each other way too much. Also, since that unhappiness was halfway due to the all too familiar environment, I became associated with it. I couldn’t escape coming back home was my fault. In regard to happiness I’ve since then successfully found a degree of separation. For me it’s a matter of finding two lives which on account of each other coincide. Remember that happiness should be a factor beforehand. So therefore it’s a matter of including yourselves into it, while making yourselves happier.

            We were happy when she came back, but after all that it became mundane. I can remember her rolling her eyes to some of the routines on one end, and sexually on the other. Emmy got f*****g bored, and I think I understand now. There’s a quote from the artist Common that “if you always keep it fresh it’ll never go bad.” Well routine ain’t f*****g fresh. Arguably this was my first experience with a fine print relationship. What I mean is the prerequisite that when a relationship crosses a certain threshold of intensity the gentleman is expected to change accordingly.

            Therefore I was expected to avert from being a night owl. Expected to stop smoking cigarettes and weed. And I can’t confirm this one, but guys I believe are expected to stop hanging out with their friends as much. It’s like ‘how dare you have fun without me’. It can be amusing in particular with the first two presumptions. They were part of our connection early on. Not so much smoking anything, but she did enjoy one of my cigarettes from time to time. To paraphrase her: surviving off of curiosity, love, and nicotine. That’s in regard to long walks through town which we both enjoyed. With the night owl syndrome that was something we both loved of each other; meaning we found somebody else up at the same hour as ourselves. I’ve been a night owl practically since birth, and I suppose she found hers by nature, but she had also been working an overnight job at first.

            Life has always been playing the odds for me; calculated risks as I said. Professing our love was a risk. Living five states away was a risk. Her coming back, us living together, us assuming our future would be our past. We projected so far ahead there where names for our five kids, two of which Jesus and Christo (say it with a Spanish accent). We planned on getting married in this little white church in her dad’s hometown in Mexico, and honeymooning someplace warm with waterfalls to play in. They may have been risks, but ones I’d take over and over again.

            We first lived where I went to school at an income based apartment in a small college town. Times where good for the most part; I just remember her having a problem with me coming home from my night job and chilling out for a bit (normally weed, music, and studying) instead of going to bed with her. She dreamed of us falling asleep often together; a dream I didn’t so much give given my normal hours. There was a cat we had for a period she brought into the mix from a coworker. It didn’t last long since the cat would piss all over the place and I would get pissed in turn. We stayed together, though, after a year finding a new place in our hometown. It was one she fell in love with instantly, so I threw down the couple grand to get it. The building was a century old former hotel on an original brick road downtown across from the train station. It was a cute little two floor, one bedroom apartment with a walk-in closet and RTA; that’s roof top access. I may have created the RTA outside of our bathroom window by bolting a few bricks to a couple of outside chairs, but it was RTA nonetheless. That was one of the best places I’ve lived with someone or by myself…. disregarding the crack head that lived next door. 

            When we were there it was the worst point of our relationship. I tried, but too often and too late after f*****g things up. I had my problems not really knowing how to deal with everything. It was my first real adult relationship, using adult very loosely, which took place at the age of 18 through 21. So really, what did I know? In fact, what did we know? To be fair we both fucked it up. Two stories can give example of this: ‘the idle gotten flavored goop’, and ‘the passive petals’.

            I’ll start with the last since I’m a gentleman, so ladies first. Towards the end of our relationship I surprised Emmy one day. She was working a 9-5 at an ATF complex doing data entry. It had its monotony, so she’d be tired getting home. That’s what gave me the idea to go up to the local florist blocks away to get her some roses. I made it a point to get extra in order to pull off the petals so I could use them for scattering about. I left a trail leading from the front door, up the double foyer stairs, and through our room into the bathroom over a bubble bath I had poured for her shortly before she would arrive home. When she did arrive noticing the petals blatantly placed for her, she had only one thing to say in a snide tone.

            “What is this?”

            “This is for you babe, a surprise. Here, follow me upstairs.”

            “Alright, let me put my lunch bag away first.”

            “Fine; now don’t be too excited.” A sarcastic tone from my end.

Regardless, I lead her upstairs and showed her the bath with petals lightly floating on the bubbles. Upon seeing this she curled her lip and said:

            “I don’t want a bath.”

Granted, this was the precipice of our end and a prime example of too little and too late. But I’ll admit, it did hurt.

            Since it wasn’t working a couple weeks later she led me into a conversation like a cartoon with a smell; loving it but unbeknownst to what’s on the end. It was a taking a break, opening our relationship, and making it poly-amorous discussion. Keep this in mind, if any woman ever brings up taking a break or anything of the sort it’s because she has prospects in mind most likely. Emmy had an older, former quarterback from our high school she worked with. She was an artsy ambivert in high school, so I can sort of understand the appeal of having a quarterback show interest as an adult. But I loved her before and then, so f**k anyone who didn’t see her beauty from the beginning.

            I maybe should’ve expected this since, for lack of a better term, she did “cheat” on me senior week when I was away before the whole Florida move. This was before we really made things official or acknowledged a commitment, so I forgave easily also looking at it as karma for me. I did kind of cheat on a few girls in high school. Not Cassy or Tammy, but still. Emmy would be the last girl I’d ever cheat on using her transgression as a free card for me to f**k a former classmate when Em was in Florida. Surprise, surprise we didn’t last, right?

            Now with my ‘idle gotten flavored goop’ story keep Cassy in mind; namely the way she spoiled me. I still hadn’t placed my value where I should’ve, yet. You could maybe blame my, in a way idolatry for head on growing up in the 90’s with creations like a song from Akinyele called “Put It In My Mouth”. I could also throw my dad under the bus a little, though it’s not his fault. When I was nine years old though, he took me to see Hocus Pocus about three witches and a virgin; and Sarah Jessica Parker with her cleavage all nice. Throughout this movie there’s an ongoing joke about that virgin being such. Like I said, I was nine years old; so on the way home I asked what a virgin was. My father responded matter-of-factly, as he always did. After explaining the definition he adlibbed and proceeded to explain the importance of me pulling back my skin, being uncircumcised, and thoroughly cleaning my penis in case a woman might want to put her mouth around it one day. Quoting, he then said “and that’s oral sex my son.” I’d been interested in sex honestly since I was about four years old, sneaking peeks in Pops’ playboys when he’d mow the grass. You can imagine concerning a nine year old oral sex was a new concept to me; a concept which stuck. In other words, whether it was head, brain, felatio, or knob gobbling, it was idolized for me as a teenager. It was my own doing so neither the song nor my father’s fault, but I didn’t really stop caring about having my dick sucked until after Emmy. Lord knows I created a fondness for cunnalingus. Even, though, she didn’t enjoy it to my memory.

            I may be digressing from the coming story, but this is important. There’s no excuse for the sentiment towards oral sex I had. I’ve learned a lot about my dealings in social etiquette with women through trial and error obviously. My parents did their best to instill everything they could, and did a pretty good job. But like it’s said, it takes a community to raise a child, and I whole heartedly agree with that. When growing up the same points have to be reiterated, reiterated, and reiterated from everybody. The semantics of the words aren’t that important, just the words themselves. A child will eventually finalize their opinion about things. Though in order for them to do so we need to have open discussions about everything with every child. This is to prepare them on how to behave correctly as an adult. This would avoid so much bullshit, which is smarter than avoiding taboo subjects. Revolution does require participation.

            Anyway, with Emmy she was the first girl that I tried to tell I didn’t care about oral, but she knew otherwise. Em’ actually made a selfless gesture and got some flavorful “good head” goop at a sex toy party she attended once. She made an effort to do something she did not like just for me. Well one night, after I had already made plans to see Daniel, she caught me before leaving and directed me towards the bed. Emmy sat me down and then pulled out the goop; strawberry flavored or something. I was aware of how important this was and reminded her I had plans and she didn’t have to, but she had worked herself up so much to do this. Being in the moment she continued.

           

            Em tried really hard, being all sensual and attentive; and she did well; really well. So well in fact I almost came in her face. I did not mean to, but it surprised the f**k out of her passing right by her eye. That made an awkward situation more so. I was thinking she should be happy since she didn’t like how it tasted and it didn’t go in her mouth, but this didn’t matter. Nothing felt smooth about it at all.

            That was the thing about our relationship at this point, it lost its malleability. It wasn’t as fluid, more forced. Long enough story a tad shorter, I got up and left shortly afterwards to go to Daniel’s like I said I’d be doing. Since she had given herself to me like that she wasn’t too happy about that decision. I said again there were plans beforehand; blah, blah, blah. Anyway you look at it I didn’t show the appreciation deserved, having not given her cuddle time or anything.

            For some reason we did so much for one another that always seemed to be under appreciated from both sides. She loved photography for instance. When we lived in that college town I sold weed, which she didn’t like. So when we moved to that new place I stopped selling, for her. I even took some of my profit money and bought her a nice camera for a few hundred as a gesture that she was more important. She never used it and ended up losing it somehow.

            Now in order to ensure both of our characters are evenly portrayed and I’m not giving myself a positive countenance, I’ll tell you two of my few regrets in life. These happened with Emmy the last few of our days. One occurred after she got out of the shower one time.

            We had gotten into a heated discussion or argument about our relationship. I was probably pleading my case, and I remember her saying something malicious. I’m talking about going for the throat type of words. When saying this she was just out of the shower with her fine bare a*s right there in front of me. After those words I slapped her derriere out of frustration. She reacted as should swinging at me trying to slap back, which I blocked. I had my problems as a young adult male, but there’s never an excuse for that s**t.

            A punishment like that made her feel like a child. I felt bad as soon as I made contact, and hated myself just the same for letting myself do it. The second regret was me being malicious right back; as if not enough had happened already. Beginning to walk away I stopped, turned around, and said something.

            “Oh, by the way, some of your jeans make your a*s look frumpy!”

I had never used that word my entire life, but knew frumpy was a dagger being aware of her certain insecurities. It wasn’t even true, but very f*****g childish from my part. I was a f*****g a*****e using my articulate mind as a lethal weapon. That look on her face with that tear rolling down stays with me. Remember to engage brain before action or mouth.

            There’s only one more thing about Emmy and I’s relationship I’d like to say, and it involves a ring. Our last Christmas together I implied I wouldn’t be getting her much due to finances. That was me lying in order to build up a surprise. I figured if she didn’t expect much that would make the surprise extra large. Due to the timing of everything I think my tactics may have backfired. I never inquired, but I think it helped drive her into the quarterback’s arms. Playing this game of misleading, unbeknownst to her I had bought a diamond ring. It wasn’t for engagement or even a promise, but maybe something of that type. I loved that woman and society had lead me to believe she deserved a token of that love in the form of compressed carbon.

            When I gave it to her, however, there wasn’t a smile anywhere near her face. She almost seemed upset I had gone that far. I tried returning it but couldn’t; there’s a no return policy on that type of s**t. I ended up letting her keep it since my love for her hadn’t changed. A couple months later that fateful fourth Valentine’s Day came about and we were nevermore.

            It sucks f*****g elephant balls we didn’t work out, and all I can say is c’est la vie. It was tough for me breaking up, because I saw her as the love of my life no matter how well things didn’t work; hence why I refer to her as my unicorn. After parting we haven’t talk for years. I tried to carry on a friendship, but I could tell she wanted nothing to do with me I assume because I failed to fulfill that fantasy of happily ever after. Emmy was hurt. I had a chance once to see her again, but I overlooked she was even there and by the time my friend told me, she was gone. I wrote her a letter afterwards which I’m not sure she ever read. I remember saying I hoped she would find happiness and to please come to our ten year high school reunion so I could see once more and hear of these good times. I didn’t show up to that reunion and she did; so I very well might have fucked up once more the better half of a decade later. There were other letters I wrote before saying I wanted to marry her in that little church in Mexico, but they were burned to ashes since they had no place.

            She is my unicorn; and if things could be done all over again with the knowledge I have now, I would do it in a heart beat. Emmy is the woman which served as my one true love no matter the end result. She taught me so much about myself, relationships, and of women in general. Unfortunately these weren’t realized until retrospect. I should’ve parted with her when she went to Florida I think, allowing us to grow individually rather than next to each other. We didn’t have the patience to wait for each other to become actual adults. But, I did learn something from D.H. Lawrence.

            “Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must

            be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.”

If there were ever a quote to fit Emmy and I there it is.

            Emmy being my longest relationship ever I’ve never had another last more than year my entire “career”; and that could say something about me. I don’t know, though. If given the opportunity I would apologize profusely for breaking her heart and try to win her back; but that’ll never happen. There’s a 99% chance we’ll never happen again, and I’ve come to terms with that. Clearly, though, Emmy was a fun and long endeavor I’d do all over again in the right circumstance. Emmy was the relationship that became my unicorn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

           

 

Perry

 

 

            After Emmy, I didn’t meet someone of interest for some time. That time being roughly a year afterwards when I was into my 22^nd year of life. Between that period the only thing I really did was become good friends with Drew and get charged with a DUI. The key word there is CHARGED; I’m the son of an esquire so that’s been helpful having picked up a few things. I was able to work the system and have it broke down to reckless driving by myself. Unfortunately around my way the DMV is a separate entity from the courts, and I happen to miss my DMV hearing due to miscommunication. So eventually after my transgression I lost my license for a year. But before then I bought that 64 ½ Mustang, and met a girl by the name of Perry.

            I used to call her Mamma P in regard to Mother Teresa, or Mamma T so to speak. Perry had a vast heart for the people she cared for or even crossed her path for that matter. She would’ve just been the hippie version of Mother Teresa. The capacity of compassion and empathy P had was due to her grandmother raising her. The hippie qualities being picked up on her own.

            I met Perry at a convenience store I spent the better half of a decade at in two different stints; and I started working there when I was 19 shortly after Emmy came back from Florida. It served many a purpose for me; one of them meeting P. You can understand given the length of time I was employed there odds are convenient (not a funny pun) I’d meet multiple women. It was obviously Perry the first time, and later Milly during my second stint. But that will be discussed later.

            Perry was a tall, slender, pretty little woman. I was in love with her smile, her eyes, and her style. I believe she actually began coming into my store by her mother’s advice, whom she lived with at the time. I do remember her regular customer of a mother saying I should meet her daughter. Call it law of attraction if you will, but not even knowing who she was exactly I began to notice her after coming in a couple times. One such time she came into to get a blunt. We smiled and flirted a bit, then I said to have a good smoke and she left. After a minute she was right back in asking for a plastic bag. That bag was in order to dump those blunt guts rather than letting them fall on my parking lot, which I appreciated being the employee that would clean them. I thanked her for that knowing exactly what the bag was for without asking and handed it over. But when she began to walk away I held onto one end and tugged her back, making her smile.

Then I said, “Wait.”

            “I think you’re pretty damn cute and was wondering. Are you single?”

            Smiling immensely, “Yes, I am.”

            “Well then, mind if I get your number?”

When saying that I was already reeling out some receipt paper and handing her a pen. She complied and things started from there.

            We had a good bit in common, like with music and vice. We both had Mustangs, her with a mid-nineties fox body. We both like bands like Radiohead or Pink Floyd, and various others. And the two of us also smoked green and drank from time to time; psychedelics peppered in between. Perry is actually the only mutually attracted pot head I’ve ever found. When you yourself smoke it’s so much easier if they do as well. It’s not a necessity, but an easier benefit. Early on I had her and her sister over for a smoke, and that’s when I really impressed her. I was still living in that downtown apartment I had got with Emmy and had made it a swanky little spot. I also made it a point to keep it neat and clean because of advice from my father. He told me if I could keep that place clean as a single, male, twenty something, that would impress women. I’ll be damned if he wasn’t correct.

            Living downtown by my self was one of the best periods of time in my life. I left the convenience store shortly after meeting Perry and started working a video store up the block from my apartment; and also got my first bartending gig down a block further. With Emmy gone I started selling weed again as well, so I was feeling pretty comfortable all things considered. My own apartment, my own mustang (I could still drive at the time), I was in college, and I had someone I found to be very attractive on my arm. I was happy having finally gotten past Emmy; but with Perry being the first girl since I was a little apprehensive in the beginning.

            I explained that to her and that I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a commitment yet, and she understood and was fine with it. Being so cool about it, after a couple months I asked her to be my girlfriend officially. Something unique about her, whom I respected very much, was that she waited the longest out of any woman I’ve been with to have sex. It was a good month and a half until. I know the timing is funny given when I asked her to be my girl, but that was specifically because of her heart and mind, not what was in between her legs.

            So that’s where we were the first few months, happy and having fun. We’d normally go back and forth between our places, her living not too far away on the same road as my father. I’d also see a bunch of her at a job in the next state over where she served at a place nicknamed B-dubs. I often studied there sitting at the bar, finding peace in the midst of bar clamor for some reason. I remember she was working there on our first New Year’s Eve together.

            I went out with a friend of mine to a bar on our state line that evening. Her busy I decided to surprise her at midnight by showing up to B-dubs. I walked in exactly when the crowd was counting down from ten. I found her during the last couple seconds and tapped on her shoulder. She turned around during that last second and I wrapped my arms around her, dipping her over and making her my first kiss for 2007. That was too perfect and amused her and myself very much.

            Although everything was sublime all around the first half of our romantic relationship, an opportunity happened to present itself. I may have met her in my town, but she grew up closer to D.C. in NOVA. That house she lived in with her mother and sister also contained her step-father. That husband and her mom decided to part ways, though, and he moved back to NOVA in order to rent and live in a fairly secluded log cabin. When he did so he realized that roommates were needed to temper the bills, and when that favorable circumstance arrived she jumped on it quickly. Like I said, she was a bit of a hippie and loved nature. We had been together for a few months and Mamma P had grown on me. When she asked me to move in there with her I said yes before the end of her question. It was a f*****g cabin, and that meant the world to my decision. Because of said cabin I also refer to Perry as a relationship of convenience; and that also is not a pun given my job beforehand. I wish Perry had something to do with it, and she was partly a factor, but it was really the cabin. Given my three year relationship I wasn’t looking to move in with my new girlfriend after six months, but I didn’t want to give up the freedom of living in such an aesthetically pleasing environment.

            It was located in the richest place in the U.S. at the time; so apparently some rich guy had it broken down into pieces and shipped from elsewhere, piecing it back together. It did have beauty out of the figurative a*s. There was a damn pond stocked with huge fish we fed in the front yard! Surrounding it was a huge forest with trees large enough to crush the place if they fell correctly. And, there were no neighbors in site. I don’t know how many times I walked out on the front porch in the morning au naturel and hit the bong. Also, our only means of heat was a wood-stove or fireplace; but that became a mixed blessing since she had gotten us both a job at a near bar to which we kept late hours. There’s nothing like being gone for ten hours and coming home to a frigid place and starting a fire at three in the morning. We kept warm from keeping close a lot. I also had a heated comforter, so my bed was the hot spot. That is a funny pun.

            If you pay attention you always seem to find yourself where you are supposed to be in life. Besides the cabin, Perry was a lot more to me than a relationship of convenience. For some reason she was a conduit to my growth; most likely being the first relationship after my unicorn. P helped move my career in bartending having done it for some time and me just beginning. Additionally her taking me to the cabin left me a little beside myself.

            I was a little out of my comfort zone being a newbie in there and only knowing her. I got along fine and met new people, but never had a connection. Me being an only child I learned early how to take care of myself, and that you yourself are the only person in life you can ever truly depend on. That may sound pessimistic, but that is not my intent; I’m simply stating a fact. Since I was by myself a lot I found a lot about Alex in turn.

            Perry and I lived together for more than a year and a half, however, as couple lasted about nine months. After a bit she realized we weren’t meant for each other romantically; and after a bit longer I agreed. That helped me learn that once a woman makes up her mind there’s a 99% chance it won’t change; hence my determination for I and Emmy’s future. Basically, if someone is not interested in you romantically go ahead and take off the blinders and keep it moving. Perry and I made better friends like my ex-wife and I would. Towards the latter end of me and P’s romanticism my dumb, young, grasping for straws a*s dropped the L word. Although she may have dabbled as a lesbian at one point, I’m speaking of love.

            “Ok, Perry, I have something I want to tell you.” I then proceeded to sit her down.

            “Ok, what’s that?”

            Taking deep breaths, “Alright; I wanted to say………..I love you Perry.”

            Looking me straight in the eye with no reaction at all she paused for a moment and then said, “No. We do not love each other.”

That gave me such profound respect for women who can be brazenly honest with men.

            She and that cabin were beneficial to me emotionally, independently, and when it came to drugs. There were copious amounts of all, so as said I found a lot about myself. Given I lost my license, which she knew about before moving out there, she was my only means of transportation. After we decided to keep it platonic I had a lot of time for pondering and repose since I would walk to and from work about fourteen miles. That damn scary hitchhiker movie came out around then so absolutely no one ever picked me up when I had my thumb out. There were no worries, though, because it did keep me fit in multiple ways.

            Regardless I had a lot of fun and good times were had. One of our later roommates was a dealer of pot and psychedelics, so naturally there are quite a few stories. There were nights of tripping and tramping through the woods up and down old logging trails surrounding our property. But one evening, one of the best I can remember, we actually stayed in.

            I’m sure you’ve heard of the connection with Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and The Wizard of OZ? Supposedly the movie can be on mute with the album playing over top and they sync so well together. Well one night tripping we mentioned this, but lacked both creations. We then pulled out a Jimi Hendrix blues album and the movie Kill Bill. I still don’t know if the Oz/Dark Side theory holds truth, but with Kill Bill/Hendrix blues it definitely holds ground. They together were f*****g awesome! The way it synced together musically and lyrically was astounding. Because I’m sure lysergic acid diethylamide was a factor I haven’t tried it again since. I’m too afraid it won’t be the same. Now whatever growth intellectually I found through times like that I don’t know; but otherwise I did make leaps and bounds forward emotionally.

            Being in college I took what was offered and sought free counseling for help with my anger issues. Obviously I showed I had some with Emmy. I remember leaving a poster on a closet door at that apartment in order to hide a hole I left punching it one night. Being a stupid young male I used to like hitting inanimate objects when I was peeved. I was making an attempt to grasp my emotions a little better with the counseling. It helped me because I learned to stand outside of myself and the situation when distraught. This ability helps when in states of heightened emotion. Beyond that when I was there, all of the walking (a meditation in itself) and literally meditating in the middle of the woods sometimes helped, too. I’ve heard people say that no one ever changes, but that’s bullshit. If one looks deep enough inside they can find the path to change. The route may not be easy, but nothing in life that’s worth it ever is.

            With life I’ve found there’s a certain balance to it all. In other words the good times have their counterparts. Shortly after we left each other romantically she came back from a trip with a new boyfriend. He was a hippie-esque, home schooled, country mother f****r which made my 6’2” a*s look small. He was ultimately a good guy, except for one morning when his desires got the better of him.

            They had been together for a couple months at this point; so they were sleeping together of course. That one morning I woke up to Perry screaming at the top of her lungs. Her room was two floors down in a rather big cabin if that gives you an idea of how serious and loud it was. I got up and went down post haste to see what’s up. He had apparently awakened before her with morning wood I presume. She then woke up to him trying to shove his arisen dick into her slumbering vagina. Essentially it was rape. That’s judging from her words and reaction, and the fact it was too early for them to be on a consensual level like that. I woke up Emmy like that once when she got back from Florida; but it was upon her request the night before and a good year and a half into our relationship.

            All things considered I handled things the best I could. I got into his face and set him straight verbally, but chose not to use physical action because Perry didn’t want that. She was already going to be kicking his butt out before the end of the day. Call that situation what you will, but I believe on my part the entire thing was handled well after that rape. Beforehand, too.

            She brought some random love interest back to our place days after we parted; but I didn’t freak out. He was a blundering idiot; but had a big heart so I looked past it. He also made that infamous mistake; but I refrained from beating the s**t out of him so quick his blood would’ve been blue. Perry did have this particular affect on me I don’t recall very often with others.

            If I were upset or disgruntled she could simply place her hands on my cheeks and look me in the eye with an instant calming effect. I had the same effect of sorts on her. If she was upset she’d instantly wrap her arms around me and shed a tear if need be; and some how my words, or tone, or touch would bring her back. For instance, when her grandmother or more like maternal figure died I was the one she came to most throughout. Her actual mother may have been there, but she was a stupid, selfish c**t of a woman. I hate using that word, but it applies.

            Sexually speaking when the two of us were still involved, Perry had two younger sisters which had their first children during. This set an undoubtable tone driving Perry’s desires. In other words her uterus was screaming. Her mother probably influenced this as well, and I think that’s what mother’s do sometimes. They want grand-babies SO bad that they inch their daughter into providing. The very last time she and I had sex I believe was her attempt to have me impregnate her. We stopped using condoms a while before already because the lack of that barrier makes sex so much better. Also, when you’re already in a relationship it’s kind of like f**k it. This is when I came up with the term Ben-Franklin-it. Ben Franklin wrote a letter to his son once and mentioned all of the women he slept with without protection, and that odds were he should’ve gotten someone pregnant or caught an STD by now. The luck he had was the luck I had, because Perry and I always used the pull out method to avoid pregnancy. That luck is why I call it Ben-Franklin-it.

            That last sexual encounter found ourselves in the shower, which never happened before. I had lifted her up and had her back against the glass. P did kind of influence this position because she wasn’t trying to turn around and bend over. It almost felt like she was trying to put me in a position where I couldn’t pull out. At least I’m that arrogant to think so. All I know is when it came time for me to ejaculate I quickly, yet gently sat her back on her feet. She got out with a look of disappointment from what I could tell. Later, not too long after we parted ways all together, she became pregnant. Something about sisters raising their kids together, I’m sure.

            Perry meant a lot to me; me learning so much about my life in general. I learned how to understand and interpret women a little better. Although she didn’t influence my choice to try in the first place, I’m glad she was with me when I gained a little more control over my emotions. I can’t say how well the log cabin setting determined events, but the characters played a major role. I’m so happy I had my time there with her and wouldn’t change a thing. Well, in the figurative sense if it were a show, I would’ve written the f*****g rapist out of the plot. If only we had that type of control? But then, life wouldn’t be exciting. In that, Perry was my relationship of evolution.

 

 

 

 

Milly

 

 

 

            I believe it’s known we all have our own issues and complexes in life; like a self-esteem issue or a hero complex for example. An issue or complex most shared I would say is an amorous codependency or the constant search for love and romanticism. Which there is absolutely and arguably nothing wrong with to make clear. I myself am not free from any of this, sharing to a degree an Oedipus Rex complex. 

            Where the Oedipus applies is in the similarities shared between my mother and those of which I’ll speak. In some of my memories from youth my mother would’ve been seen as a victim. Both of my parents were addicts at one point, and my mother unfortunately a partner to domestic violence. Coincidentally some women I’ve sought held that certain air about them as well. Two of whom I’ll later speak of were heroin addicts for instance. The first I’ll mention though ,was actually the epitome of domestic violence. She’s my ex-wife, Milly.

            Milly was a tad younger than me, about three years, but had an old soul gained through strife. I can relate some what, but that is me relating through adversity molding one’s self. It definitely had nothing to do with the detail of her discord. She went through so much s**t physically, which brought its emotional toll.

            On a regular basis she was molested and raped by her older brother as a child; her dad’s best friend doing the same one night, too. On top of that her “anger issues portrait” of a father would beat her regularly. And additionally on one occasion as a teenager she went to a party with a friend who left Milly there alone. Later two traveling construction workers who found the party somehow, dragged Milly into a room and took turns raping her. Pause for a second; imagine how experiencing all of this abuse might seem to be second nature?

            When Perry and I broke up towards the end of 2007, and continued being friends and roommates into 2008, that’s when my unprescribed span of abstinence began. There may have been a preacher’s daughter with half a brain due to surgery trying to curb epilepsy giving me head in a bathroom of the most famous coffee house franchise; but that doesn’t count. The abstinence wasn’t really wanted, but it did me very well.

            After coming back home, eventually Drew and I found ourselves living together. That was along with Archibald, too, and honestly, that was one of the happiest periods of my life. If I wasn’t working at that same convenience store for my second time, it was always Me, Drew, Daniel, and another Archibald. I can remember one night spent at a bar with Drew watching my cousin play some incredible music on stage while I saw my favorite college basketball team make it to the elite eight in the tourney. While I sat down viewing both, with random people and couples dancing in between, I realized I was completely happy without a partner on my arm. So happy I could’ve died that night and been ok with it. This abstinence, starting in earlier ’08, carried on until a bit past the halfway point in ’09. I’ll admit it ended with one girl, one night; but there was nothing permanent there for either of us. Then a few months later I met Milly working the store one night.

            The one thing that’s appealing about meeting a woman at a gas station is that you know their attraction is legit. Anyway, it sure as f**k isn’t for the money. I was outside smoking a cigarette when I first saw her and was instantly attracted.

            She rolled up in the passenger seat of a friend’s car, got out and said: “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to bother you.” She was apologizing for interrupting my cigarette.

            “Please it’s ok; besides, you being her makes this place look better.”

            Turning to her friend still in the car, she said “See, I don’t bother him; I actually make this place look better.”

I then put out my cig and like a gentlemen opened the door for her……but this was also to see her sweet, nice a*s. Straight up, she was beautiful as anything. About 5’5” with a gorgeous figure and brown eyes to get lost in. She also had half a sleeve on one arm and other tattoos elsewhere on her body. Obviously she and I were flirting from the jump off, with banter back and forth and a coy smile on each of our faces. Milly left that day, but it only took one other meeting until I couldn’t contain myself and asked for her number.

            I sent her a text later that same night; which didn’t happen too often. I normally waited a day or two; but not anymore; before contact in order to make sure they didn’t think I was already infatuated. When I sent the text that evening, she just so happen to be driving in town near I and Drew’s place. Her and I decided that stopping by was in our best interest. We chilled, talked, and got to know each other. Speaking of our past, our opinions, and our feelings. We also happened to sleep together that first night. Although I walked into the situation with no expectations or care if it happened, that apparently didn’t hurt. Nor my symmetrical face, broad shoulders, or ice blue eyes; to be cocky. Please understand, reiterating, that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a woman sleeping with whoever, wherever, whenever she wants, or never until right. It is their prerogative to do as they please sexually, just like anyone else.

            After that first night, even before the sex, I was hooked on Milly like phonics. We instantly fell in love, even though we were different in numerous ways. But bottom line, it worked. We provided what we needed in our twenties…… Take incredible sex for instance.

            She was also the first true love I’d found in years. As a result I played a role for her very willingly. I did mention a hero complex as an example earlier, and it so happens to apply here. Rightfully so American’s have placed heroes and vigilance on a podium of excellence. Due to this and in congruence with seeing my mother as a victim, I developed an undiagnosed hero complex. Throughout life, anytime I saw someone in a weak position, I stepped in glad fully. So when Milly and I met that was all she wrote. She had moved back to my town because of an abusive relationship, but walked right into another. Milly was 23 and her father was still beating her; which influenced me into becoming her savior. Now remember that’s a hero complex, not a deity complex.

            A little less than a month after meeting I asked her to move in. Although I couldn’t appertain specifically, I could wrap my head around the idea of what she’d been going through. Or at least I thought so. That’s why, for some dumb reason, I thought I understood her emotions at first.

           

            The first time she hit me was outside of a bar one night. In conversation I had mentioned that I cheated on the majority of my girlfriends in high school. Someone in the distance, separate from us, yelled something like “f**k her, I’m getting some p***y tonight!” walking back into the bar. Milly then asked:

            “That’s fucked up; do you think you’d do that?”

            Furrowing my brow, “Hell no; I take our relationship seriously.”

And seriously, I did say that and mean it. Then proceeded to say:

            “I cheated on practically every girl in high school, but I grew up. I’m 26 and the last time I cheated was eight years ago.”

            The look on her face changed, “What the hell? Do you think that’s ok?”

            “No, that’s what I’m trying to say, it’s not ok.”

            Interrupting she said, “OH, you just f**k everybody. And….”

Words like that continued for a minute; as if the words coming out of my mouth projected our future. I tried to calm her down, and I tried to explain that her reaction was absurd and unfounded. That was me “understanding”. At one point she swung and connected a couple times slapping me. I just stood there dumbfounded while she walked back to her parents’ house not too far away. After looking over my shoulder and seeing an old classmate with big eyes walking back inside, I gave her about 20 yards and began following her.

            Along the way I silently followed for a bit while she did her thing. She called a friend for a ride to “…get the f**k out of [there]”. I then called her name a few times and patiently waited for her to get done venting and hang up. About four city blocks away she finally stopped at my old high school.

            “Milly could you hold on!? Can we just chill right quick and talk about this?”

            “Talk about what Alex; how I f*****g hit you!?”

            “Babe, it’s ok, it doesn’t matter.” then gently placed my hands oh her arms, “Can we sit down please?”

We simply sat down in the lotus pose and talked it out in the middle of the night, in the middle of the field, in front of my old school.

            ”Milly I understand. This wasn’t really your fault per se; you were probably just striking first as a defense mechanism since you’ve been hit so much the past few months. I don’t hate you for it and you didn’t hurt me.” She started crying. “You’re going to have to do a lot more than that in order to piss me off. I love you Milly and I will never strike back at you. I’m here for you no matter what, and always will be.”

By the end she was professing her love back and apologizing. I can’t explain it, but the love was strong with that one. At first she really couldn’t have done anything to drive me away. After we were done talking and she called off her ride, we walked back eight blocks and fucked like bunnies on their death bed.

            A few days after that scuffle we found ourselves at another bar with her aunt. This one Patsy Kline used to perform at as a teenager. I remember someone they knew was out front with there nice a*s bike lit up with some blue under lights. Not sure why but thankful the opportunity came up, Milly got on the motorcycle wearing these high heels, some fishnet stalkings, a black dress with a short enough hem, and her sexy little necklace. I’m not sure why I liked it so much, but it was an inverted cross. It could be Satan for some, or Saint Peter for others; either way my nickname for her became ‘my anti-Christ’. She was looking sexy and gorgeous on that bike while I took a few phone pics. Afterwards we went inside and had a great night.

            We had a few drinks, we looked longingly into our eyes, and we scintillatingly danced the night away. She and I danced pretty well together, which was crazy for me since I suck. Though I’ve found when I have a connection with someone we do well on the dance floor. I was even nice and danced with her fifty something year old aunt. Milly even did something selfless and slipped a couple of 23 oz. pilsner glasses into her purse for Drew and I. When we were done with all of that we went to a 24 hour diner down the road. When outside of the diner later, waiting to leave, I looked deep into her eyes for the umpteenth time and said,

            “I love you.”

With her cheeks hurting she still smiled and said,

            “I don’t know why; but I love you, too.”

            “What do you mean, why wouldn’t I love you?”

            “You know why.”

            “Babe, I told you it’ll take a lot more than that s**t to stop me from loving you. I’ll be here for you through anything.”

            “Really?” then jokingly asked, “Would you marry me even though I hit you?”

            Without hesitation I said, “Yep, absolutely.”

            Showing denial she laughed and said “You wouldn’t marry me.”

            “I most certainly would Milly.”

            “Then ask.”

            “What, right here?”

            With confidence and a smile she said “Yes.”

            “Well alright.” I replied, then getting on one knee. “Should I go back in and get some onion rings?”

            Laughing again she said “No, you don’t need a ring.”

            “Ok, but I’ll remember that.” I then reached out and took her hand, knelt down on the porch of a diner as classic as the bar we were at; then looked up into her eyes and said, “Milly, marry me. Will you do me the honor and be my wife?”

            With eyes fluttering and her hand out comically bent, fingers out, she said “Yes.”

I then got up and we laughed. I put one arm around her, pulling her in and kissed her on the head.

            “One day Milly.”

We went back to her aunt’s and just laid down falling asleep. We’d remember that evening; especially a few days later.

            In the same town Drew happened to work, Milly happened to have some LN, in home care employment. I didn’t have a car at the time and my dude was gracious enough to share his. In order of distance Milly and I would drop him off first, and continue to the residence she worked. Well on one of those days when Drew was exiting the car he jokingly parted by saying, “Now don’t go off getting married you crazy kids.” To us those words were like dropping a GMO ‘death seed’ prime for a speedy growth. Given the night we had a few nights before, they sounded too fortuitous to ignore. We discussed the concept on her way to work.

            “Ha, that was kind of funny.”

            “I know, a little too crazy.”

            “Right? What do you think about it, though?” I had to ask.

            “I don’t know. Why; are you trying to?”

            “I don’t know; why not? I love and you know I’d do it in a heartbeat. We could plan a little something…”

            “No. I don’t want a big wedding.”

            “Ok, why not?”

            “Well you’d have Drew and Daniel as your best men, but who would I have next to me?” She didn’t really have any friends around here having just moved back.

            “Ok, I understand. Well f**k it, it’s really just matters to us. Why wait? Let’s do it soon.”

            “How soon?”

            “As soon as we can. While you’re at work I’ll call around and see how easy it is, because I’m sure we can do the courthouse thing or something.”

            She thought for a second and said, “Ok, let’s do it. I want to marry you.”

            I honked my horn a few times and said “Cool! And listen, I don’t give a s**t if you take my name or not. It doesn’t really matter because you being my wife is enough. Damn, I wish you didn’t have to work; I really want to f**k you right now.”

            “Please, I’ve gotten wet just sitting here the past five minutes.” Smiling she then said, “I don’t know, I’m not feeling too well.”

            “Haha, although I wouldn’t frown upon it, that’s up to you as to whether or not you use that excuse today.”

            “I’d better not; I’ve taken off enough lately. Besides, I need to save that sick day for when we get married.” Leaning over she kissed me on the cheek.

            A couple hours later I had all of the information needed and everything set up. It required picking up a marriage license, and going a few blocks down to the George Washington Hotel to have the ceremony overseen by a justice of the peace, an ordained clergy person, or something of the sort. Coincidentally that hotel is where my grandparents honeymooned….. way, way back in the day. The only thing we needed now was rings.

            “Hey babe, everything can happen today if we want?”

            “Really? Today?”

            “Yep, today. We need to pick up the license and then walk down to a hotel garden for the ceremony. Do you still want to do this?”

            “Yes babe, I do. Give me a bit and I’ll call you back to come get me.”

            “You got it, I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

Milly conveniently fell ill, which required her to leave early. I picked her up and we went to Sea the Source to get rings; Sea the Source being a hippie shop. We then drove to the next state over and picked up our license.

            We were really shooting for that Hollywood s**t, and we didn’t do too badly of a job. It all seemed to fall into place beautifully. The ceremony was pretty, taking place in beautiful outside garden in the middle of the hotel. The clergy person was really nice and took us seriously. And during the Corinthians’ account of love, it began raining. In most cultures that’s good luck.  It signifies longevity, fertility, and the washing away of bad memories or occurrences giving you a clean slate. All I can say is laugh out loud. She is my ex-wife, so that tells you something.

            After we had our first meal as a married couple in a sliver of a place called the Snow White Diner, we went home to tell everyone. Picking up Drew first, of course. He got into the car and we went about things as normal.

            “What’s up my dude?”

            “Nothing, how you doing?”

            Looking at Milly first, I said “Pretty damn well. How was your day man?”

            “You know, same old s**t. Fixed a few computers, spent a two hour lunch at the Blue Moon, and then took a nap on their couch. How was your all’s day?”

            “Funny you should ask; it was perfect.”

            “Oh yea, why’s that?”

            I nodded towards Milly edging her to say it. She turned to Drew and spoke up. “We actually got married.”

            Pausing for a second he said, “What? Yea right, you’re kidding me? Come on, what really happened?”

            “Seriously, we got married.”

            “Get the f**k out of here!? Awe, congratulations you two.” He wrapped his arms around each of our shoulders. “What brought this on?”

            “The funny thing is you did. Not really, but indirectly. Your parting words this morning were really Serendipity for us. You joked don’t go off getting married, and we had loosely decided to do so already the past few days. Your words felt so right we said f**k it and went through with it all.”

            “Wow, I can’t believe this. Well what are we doing tonight, are you celebrating?”

            “We really didn’t think that far ahead.” Milly and I both laughed.

            All things considered my friend’s handled it best; Daniel smiling and hugging us both, too. But my mother was just now meeting Milly 39 days after we first met, and a day after we got married. After introducing them and some small talk, we told her.

            “Mom, we have something important to tell you. Milly and I got married.”

            My mother having that same look of reluctance and apprehension seen before paused, and the first thing out of her mouth to Milly was “Don’t f**k with our relationship.” Those words kind of set the tone for things to come with the people closest to me. Half way between my friends and mother, my father took it pretty well. I even had a dream about his mother, my grandmother. I was so happy to see her and say that I got married. Mammaw and I sat, and there was elation in my voice when I gave her the news. Mammaw responded, but the weird thing about the dream was that I saw her mouth move, but couldn’t hear a word. I didn’t need to, though, because the look on her face said it all with no smile. The thing about eloping is that if you don’t include the closest people in your life, they kind of take it personally Even though from our perspective it had nothing to do with them. Drew and I eventually had a falling out for some time. He saw me in a bad situation and couldn’t understand why I had to see it out. Daniel and I didn’t speak for a while, me even avoiding his phone calls because I was too embarrassed to speak of what was happening. And in case it wasn’t assumed Milly’s parents didn’t take it any better, especially her father. This didn’t help either of us.

            For lack of a better phrase my wife was emotionally fucked up at the time. As said her past might indicate why. If anyone at any moment has had emotional or anger problems, you also might understand that in that state we tend to treat those nearest the worst. For some reason the comfort level we feel allows us to do and say the worst things. I’ve been guilty of that myself if you look at my regrets. That was the case for my wife, too.

            After our marriage her verbal and physical rants still continued, and about the fourth or fifth time it got pretty epic. Drew would confirm this because he heard the whole damn thing. The argument began upstairs in my room, and there were two choice phrases throughout which repeated. “Stop hitting me” was screamed a few times, as well as “Milly I am not hitting you.” I refused to do onto her what she had known, but she would still try to instigate that all too familiar feeling of abuse. It all broke up when the skirmish moved downstairs. After she grabbed my long hair and began pulling it, naturally I said “You f*****g b***h stop pulling my hair”. That’s when Drew introduced himself into the juncture.

            Milly had slid down to the floor crying, so he picked her up and carried her to his room. His girlfriend was there to console. I had gone to the kitchen and leaned my head against the back door fuming with emotion. When he came to check on me I just burst into tears. All he did was grab me and give me a shoulder to cry on, wrapping his arms around me. Some guys might find that weird and uncomfortable with a friend; unless you’re European. I just felt lucky since he wasn’t my friend or roommate anymore. That was my brother there in the moment. This is why I have trouble saying friends, because I only see family and acquaintances in this world.

            She was trying to coax me into hitting her, and that incident was an example of how far she was willing to go. Lamentably, it would eventually happen on multiple occasions after the sixth or seventh time. I may not have been a violent person, but was an aggressive male when my emotions got the better of me. When I was flooded with the entirety of negative energy, it became harder and harder to step outside of myself and control the situation. I tried my best with Milly, but we were like a caustic substance when put together. This was evident before we married. So you can call me a dreamer or stupid, because either one fits.

            I did marry Milly for being more than her savior, so there were finer points. Although this hard rock, suicide girl was into this boy who loved hip hop and everything else, we had our similarities. That in turn made it so that this woman and I had the best f*****g sex often, and consistently. We can click with people in many different ways; physically as one of them. Milly and I had sex everywhere we could.

            The day of our marriage we had went out with Drew and his girl to celebrate. Milly and I not being able to wait any longer, we found ourselves in the women’s bathroom of the bar we were at. I had her bent over the sink with her face against the mirror and one leg up. Even on the way home we couldn’t wait any longer and we did it again in the third row of Drew’s girlfriend’s SUV. This was while he was driving; so the mood naturally got his girl to blow him along the way. On another night I had her against a truck with her skirt hiked up; and this was in an alleyway an eye’s shot across from the police station. We had sworn we lost her panties there, having been a little drunk and not knowing what happened to them exactly. They were later found behind my bed. Another day, shortly before our divorce, we even did it in the changing room of a franchise. That was a fun walk back to the car for her, gravity taking over and all. The point is I loved making love with her, and took the chance anytime. Milly was incredible.

            The way her a*s would bounce up and down on my dick. Those perfect breasts and eyes staring back at me, fluttering between pants and moans. OH and those gorgeous tattoos of hers for me to view while she was flipped over on her knees. The places we did it, too?

            Not the abroad voyeuristic places I’ve already mentioned. No, I’m talking domestic. Anywhere we lived we explored the options of that square footage. There was the couch, the bed, the office chair. There was the shower, the sink, the toilet with the lid down of course. The kitchen counters, the stairwells, and the hallway between the closet and banister, too. All of them were great f*****g places for comfort and leverage. Speaking of leverage, I walked up the wall once next to our bed, and held myself up. Using my feet on the wall as an advantage, I found a new, deeper corridor of her vagina from behind. It felt so incredible from both of our perspectives. I’ve always had an apt tongue, too, so Milly’s n*****s were quite the erogenous zone; especially when she was pregnant. You can imagine how much more heightened it felt given her hormones at the time. That pregnancy was actually a feat in itself given where I grew up.

            My state had always been high in teen pregnancy, and was even number one when I was in high school (my county being number one in the state). With that being said, obviously children were always the prefaced to marriage around there. In that case it was amusingly unprecedented to do what we did getting pregnant after marriage. Milly didn’t have a zygote until a month after tying the knot. We locking together in matrimony and getting our own place was just love, not a responsibility. But in retrospect, maybe the pregnancy shouldn’t have happened.

            Trying to start our lives together was hard work on short notice. With the emotional problems of hers and mine, throwing a baby into the mix was too much. That of course was when the worst fights happened. I started hitting back when we got our own place unfortunately. I regrettably instigated a fight once or twice. The first time I slapped her was after something vicious came out about one of my brothers. Milly got this look of surprise and disdain that I’ll never forget. All of that s**t, from the beginning and in between, culminated to one fateful night.

            The stupid thing is I could not tell you what started the fight that evening. That really gives me prospect as to how pointless and idiotic it all was. I handled things calmly this time since my step-son was present, and because of my character she got all pissy and ended up throwing my bass guitar down a flight of steps. I could’ve gone off the wall for such a malicious act, and almost did, but I chose not to. The farthest I went was standing in the front doorway with a hammer in my hand, looking at the front windshield of her truck. I then stood outside of myself and realized how dumb of a thought that was. I then put my hammer up, along with the knives in the kitchen. She had grabbed them more than once before, and I had scars on my arm to verify.

            With the given lethal amenities away I preceded upstairs to our office where she and her son had went. I should’ve left well enough alone. But, I nonchalantly posted up against the wall like an arrogant prick and told her to leave. Verbatim, I said “Please leave” over and over without giving room for retort. She eventually started yelling and screaming, and then kicked the s**t out of my amp. Amazingly my bass and amp still work fine. In order to stop this I held her down in the chair by her arms and pushed her far enough away. Milly hated this and spit in my face. Letting her go she stood up and started swinging, me blocking her hands away each time. Then I spun her around, wrapping her up into my arms. I said “Stop” I don’t know how many times. She still screamed “Get off” so loud her son, who was there if you forgot, yelled the same thing and came over pounding on my back. That stopped me cold dead.

            I was instantly warped back to that viewpoint from my youth. One of my earliest memories was my father hitting my mother, and that was the weakest I’ve ever felt in life. I was proud of her son because he was doing more to stop things than I ever did. The helplessness I felt at his age turned me into the man I am today. I feel he might have the same tendencies.

            I let go of her when he hit me, and she then started ranting about stomach pains. This startled me given my child was in womb, so I called 911, which was stupid. When I was on the phone trying to explain what was wrong she walked by screaming “He hit me, he hit me”, which for once was bullshit this time. She ended up leaving when I was still on the phone with dispatch, so I called off the ambulance. Though I wasn’t born dumb and knew that cops were now in route. I got my dog Mercy and left on foot to Daniel’s house not too far away. I made it around the block into an alley across from our house. When my place was in view, sure enough the cops were already there.

            That night was what you would call a mixed blessing; the only positive being we separated finally. Due to a phone call from her parents, the cops came to their house, her “safe haven”, and took a report. Milly said she was honest and asked to not press charges given her action in the incident. After reading the report it was rather lop-sided in her favor, but I believe her. I’m sure the cop had empathy and concern since she was pregnant and had bruises on her arms from me restraining. Things were therefore written in her favor; which anyone could possibly do. After this there were two warrants out on my name. One for her, and one for my child in womb.

            They would not pick me up for these transgressions until a couple months later. I was pulled over on my way back to work between shifts one day; giving them reason because I didn’t have my seat-belt on. I was lucky, err, the luckiest mother f****r ever. Not thinking there was anything to it besides my belt, I went all the way back to the parking lot of my employer. So there I was outside, pulled over, then arrested in front of my coworkers and whatever customers present. I was working at that “neighborhood bar and grille” which held history for me, and luckily the cool manager was on shift when this happened. In other words I didn’t lose my job. Additionally, the cops were cool, also, allowing my car to stay there and not searching it. Therefore they didn’t find my half ounce of bud. They then took me to jail and I called a bail bondsman, handling things from there.

            Of course, court ensued. I represented myself since I knew what I knew about law, and knew what I knew of the situation. Having talked to Milly she chose to do the best thing she could by not showing up, having moved back to Pennsylvania anyway. After the second hearing the prosecutor dropped the charges and the case was dismissed. Later on our divorce went amicably like that as well.

            We actually met up in the same bar we celebrated our marriage in order to sign our divorce papers. After signing we chilled, had a drink, and reminisced. We talked for a few hours and half a pack of cigarettes. When our divorce proceedings occurred, the judge loved us.

            “Are there any holdings or property between you?”

            We practically said in unison, “No your honor.”

            “Are there any disputes or issues between you?”

            Again, “No your honor.”

            “Then I decree by the state of…..”

And bang-bang, that was that. The judge applauded how easy it was and wished they could all be such. The ironic thing was the divorce cost more than our marriage. Go figure; it always costs more to get out rather than get in.

            It sucked getting divorced. My parents were divorced and I always said I’d married once…… c’est la vie. Milly and I have hung out a few times since that whole mess. We even help each other out with one another’s relationships now. She’s even had a couple more children since our attempt. One time we saw each other I came up to PA to stay the night at her place. She wasn’t feeling well and we simply fell asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning she wasn’t feeling any better. I took her to the hospital in order to help out. When we walked in I held her new son with one arm, and held her daughter’s hand. That’s quite a humbling experience carrying your ex-wife’s new children when she didn’t have yours. To be short what happened to our daughter is neither here nor there; it was for the best no matter what. I miss the thought of her and wish I could’ve held Isabella; but I respect Milly and am glad she survived. There was a cist on her birthing sack and she very well had a good chance dying during birth. Maybe almost having her is what did it, but I and Milly’s relationship is the longest that’s lasted after splitting. I value that woman probably more than anyone in her life. I may not marry her again, but I’d do anything for her and never give away the time we had together.

            Milly certainly meant a lot. I gained so many aspects which helped round me out and develop the level of maturity I now hold. I may have always been an old soul myself, but I had young stupid emotions at one point. Seeing the worst of my evil gave me a new look. The same was for her as well. It gave us a basis of comparison to any situation like it. Being so up front and close to the evils of life practically gives you a doctorate, and knowledge is power as they say. I’ve always been indifferent towards domestic violence; but after being immersed into it I hate it even more. I’m so sorry I ever touched that woman in a violent way, let alone anything but lovingly. My regrets may be a single handful, but they hold the weight of our universe.

            Maybe as a result that’s why I will always be there for her. Like this one time when her boyfriend hit her, I knocked on his door and beat the s**t out of him. This was while I kept his dog from biting me the whole time, while never hurting the canine. My abilities are endless when it comes to the people I love. I in no way promote violence really; especially with women. But when it comes to guys we need the s**t beaten out of us sometimes in order to regulate attitude. There is a much better way of handling things by using the tactics of Ghandi and Martin Luther King, Jr., who had proven non-violence works. However, I’m lesser of a human. For me, viewing otherwise is still a viable option in the rarest of occasions. I’ll reiterate, those occasions are few and far between, and truly never have their place.

            The thing about domestic violence is that it always stays with you. For the rest of your existence, the thought of hitting that woman will forever be in the back of your mind. You can only hope the people already there, and ones you meet later on, can look past it and forgive you. Because you will never forgive yourself. For the rest of my days I will forever have the thought of hitting Milly randomly pop up in the forefront of my mind. No matter how much I try to correct my sin with the correct thought, word, or action, it’ll forever bring this distaste and malevolence for my self.

            Milly will forever be an attempt (key word there) at a fairytale, Hollywood love. She will also, forever bring a sinking feeling to my heart when I think of her. Milly is the relationship and marriage that finally made me ready for romantic relationships in general. She taught me everything I didn’t already know about love. After her not one f**k was given to finding it. Unless the details were correct I wouldn’t give it a second thought again. Milly is only sixth on the list so it apparently didn’t work out with the next; but this whole thing called love is a lot more complicated than we ever like to admit. Milly was the crash course into love’s complications.

 

 

 

 

 

Kennedy

 

 

            After my divorce I found myself working at that “neighborhood bar and grille” I’ve mentioned. It is a franchise so I figured I should quote. That place was a great transition spot for me after that whole ordeal with Milly. It became a great environment to escape from reality. I in fact escaped a couple times with a few of my coworkers and customers. The weirdest thing about a marriage is that on account of somebody going that far, it gives you this certain air which says that you bring something worth it to the table. It gave me a degree of confidence the same as well, and this is when I met one of those coworkers I escaped with. Her name was Kennedy.

            Kennedy was the first heroin addict I got involved with, and there was something about her I am at a loss to explain. She was tall, thin, cute, and sexy. When I started working there I was forewarned to stay away from certain people, her included. Go figure she was the one I went the furthest with? That god damn reverse psychology is all I can say.

            Before Kennedy and I were ever involved, the two of us with another coworker hung out a lot. Oh, and Kennedy’s boyfriend, too; which I’ll explain eventually. Namely we chilled after work and went out, drank, and did drugs. That was the only time I’ve dabbled with pills, and they were fun for the time; Addie’s being the poor man’s coke. Kennedy also turned me onto Opannas, which were a synthetic opiate. No surprise given she was a heroin addict. They were the tits when snorted, but just like methadone or H you throw up throughout the night. But like those drugs if you do them often enough your body builds up an immunity to the nausea. The first night I didn’t hurl and my body had built up that tolerance, it was the last night I ever did them. The only drug I’ve ever sought out has been pot. Everything else I’ve done has been due to proximity and the philosophy of ‘when in Rome’.

            Besides the drugs there was also rock ‘n’ roll, with the sex coming later. I’d go to Kennedy and her boyfriend’s place and jam out with him sometimes. He was a pretty good guitarist and I was a drummer, so we’d just go to town for a couple hours. For all I know he was keeping me close to the vest since Kennedy had been looking at me a certain way since the first day we met. Since the first day of work she happened to be the one I was most attracted to, and low and behold her boyfriend was a cook and had eyes. So like I said, close to the vest. That’s friend’s close, enemies closer so I’ve heard.

            I had absolutely no intention of stepping in between them. That’s not who I am and she was a coworker. But I suppose we make the best mistakes twice. Given Kennedy’s situation with her addiction and her d********g boyfriend, this was all too similar to my ex-wife. It was a woman in a s****y spot and da-da-DA, I stepped in. What a f*****g idiot with a big heart I was, but we tend to gravitate towards what we know. In hindsight I see the similarities she shared, but since it was so soon after my divorce I had blinders on.

            Her boyfriend treated her unjustifiably like contemptible scum; verbally thrashing her more often than not. He was also more worried about H than her. He apparently enjoyed playing with his a*s while masturbating more than f*****g her, too. Needless to say, Kennedy’s situation resurrected my hero complex, among other things.

            When we were doing addies and talking one night, up until the early morn, there was this one perfect moment when we started kissing. Finally the attraction we had got the better of us. Afterwards we felt a little bad considering this happened at the home of the other coworker and friend we chilled with the most. That friend of ours sort of had a crush on me, which I defeated another evening in conversation. She was also kind of besties with Kennedy, so everything was a little touchy at first; but, this fueled us being the forbidden fruit. At work sometimes, we’d even make out in the walk-in cooler “changing the keg”.

            After Kennedy felt comfortable she had THE conversation with her boyfriend. This was perfect timing since she was kicking him out anyway and trying to kick the habit; and kicking the habit was her choice, not mine. Unfortunately he chose to express his feelings the wrong way. This was one night at work when I suitably wasn’t there. He beat the s**t out of her to the extent that if he hadn’t stopped she might’ve died. I f*****g hate men that hit women; and that’s before, during, and after my ex-wife. That’s why for the only time in life I hated myself I was married. So the next time I saw this mother f****r I could’ve killed him. And I tried, too. In order to give them perspective, I like to flip the roles and make the men feel like their victims did.

            After the incident with Kennedy he was naturally fired from work. That meant his mother brought him in a week later to pick up his last paycheck. That day I looked at Kennedy and realized she was a little distraught. I asked what was wrong and she said he was just inside our building. I’m not sure how I missed him, but I quickly made the next choice. “Which way did he go?” I asked. She pointed me in the right direction and saw my initial reaction. I walked away from her towards the exit and she tried to stop me, but I wasn’t having that.

            I walked outside and he was just sitting there in the passenger seat with a smug look and the window down. “What’s up mother f****r?” I asked walking to my nearby car, throwing my apron onto the seat. I walked over to him and he continued sitting there beginning to say something. The thing was I didn’t allow him to finish a damn word. I reached into his mother’s car immediately and wrapped my hand around his throat and began choking. The look of despair on his face was priceless while he did all he could to remove my hand unsuccessfully. His mother was screaming; coworkers were viewing through a window; and there was Kennedy. Watching what had happened first hand the whole time, she walked over and lightly wrapped her hand around my arm. Then she looked me in the eye and said softly to “Stop.” Like Perry she had that very calming affect on me. I let go and walked away with her at no better time. When stepping back inside the GM happened to come out of the kitchen in flight or fight mode asking what was wrong. I was trying tying my apron and replied “Nothing.” No tangible proof, no foul. But after that they made it a point to find reason to fire me, which they did.

            I was staying with my mother at the time because of my divorce. I asked Kennedy to move in and she still did even though. Living with my mother as an adult most certainly wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but to me it was a step back in a macro sense. As a result I was taught low times in life tend to weed out and find the good people. The first few days she moved in I spent about a business week helping her through the cold chills and what not that come from kicking a heroin habit. Lucky for me we fucked a lot to keep her mind off of things. Over all it was a good environment for her to do this. My mother was a recovering addict and had insight for her. I was there to do anything she needed. And she was also able to bring her estranged son whom she hadn’t seen in a while over for weekends. He and I had fun playing Wii inside, and basketball outside. She and I did do well together for these reasons and that we shared the same interests in fictions, politics, and music. The best parts of new people in your life are the things we pick up from one another. I do not apply the ideology directly, but she did turn me onto the Wiccan life. It held my interest like Buddhism or Taoism and was very fun to look into. I ended up turning her onto one of my favorite bands The Bright Light Social Hour. At Madam’s Organ in Adam’s Morgan one night we saw them.

            This was one of my best nights ever in life so far. She and I danced all night listening to them play in such an intimate setting. I would never change a damn thing about that evening, ever. Especially getting lost at four a.m. and finding ourselves by the Potomac River. Given the beautiful aesthetically pleasing surroundings we took the opportunity and made mind blowing love to each other a spit shot from the river. I’m sure it sounds like everything was perfect, all things considered. However, I call it experience, but I knew it wasn’t there for us from the very beginning. Though I couldn’t walk away just yet.

            When I asked her to move in it was because I knew it was the absolute best choice for her at that time. I basically spent the rest of our days waiting for that comfortable out. A couple months into our relationship, after moving in, her mother came into some money from a settlement and took care of her daughter. A fringe benefit of this was that a classic record player with speakers was bought for me as a thank you for all that I’d done. Her mother purchased Kennedy a new Volkswagen and rented her a nice place in a wooded community. I held no interest in moving in, but I was happy that things were coming around for her. I kept a degree of distance not trying to feed off of her mother’s scraps; and it was the same degree of separation I kept with Kennedy when she chose to be clean. Knowing how I felt from the jump off, deep down, I suppose the entire relationship was held with that certain degree. Don’t get me wrong, she treated me like a king servicing my every need. I was so happy for Kennedy’s presence and I loved that woman. But ultimately, it’s either there or it isn’t.

            Because of a head injury I found myself in the hospital during our time. I had had previous injuries to my brain before, so the hospital induced a coma for to rest and heal. During this I was half there and half not, and subsequently I called her Milly once. This did not sit well with her; but when you’re searching for reason? Like me I think she entered into this relationship with the same reason in mind. Also, this being my second severe head injury I kind of suffered from a milder version of PTSD. I’m in no way comparing myself to soldiers or anyone having seen certain things. This is simply a proposed explanation; and I say this only as a preface. Kennedy and I got into an argument one day a couple weeks after the hospital.

            Amazingly, I again don’t remember what it was all about. I’m not sure why, but for whatever reason I freaked out and put a couple holes in some dry wall out of frustration. Aside from the fact I NEVER would’ve touched her, this happened to be way too similar to her past. The s**t at the restaurant wasn’t her first domestic violence situation, meeting the majority of her previous marriage. That can explain the brown frown some what. We all seek to escape our past through one means or another.

            PTSD was a proposed explanation, not an excuse. No matter what may be responsible, nothing justifies what I did. Very few things in life require that type of violent reaction. However, what this did for me was push her away on her own terms. This act was the possible channel to where things were going, and Kennedy left shortly after willingly. I was glad to see her do this; I did not want to break up and kick her out when she was in such a fragile state being clean for a short time. Whether this was a stupid knee-jerk reaction or a subconscious act with reason, the end result was fitting.

We parted affably and she ended up moving into that wooded community.

            It’s hard to say what Kennedy meant to me. Maybe she was just a token subject of vigilance for me? Maybe she was just the transition relationship I needed after my divorce? I only know I enjoyed the better half of a year we spent together; and I am happy to have helped her to an extent. I love Kennedy, but I would say she was the relationship which made me second guess my leanings towards women of a dramatic type. My drama-dar was finely tuned so to speak as a result. But, as said I make the best mistakes twice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lilly

 

 

            I’ve briefly touched on the Oedipus complex in regard to drug addicts. Lilly was the second of two heroin addicts I’ve dated, and I actually met her on a lovely little website called Plenty of Fish. Just think of that; ten years ago that’d be a funny statement? Now either you or someone you know has met someone via the internet. We actually began speaking to each other on February 14^th. When you’re single there’s something about that day which gravitates you to one another via social sites.

            Lilly was pretty awesome. She was honest, matter of fact, and didn’t give a f**k similar to me. On the POF website they ask what the ideal first date would be for you. My answer was something to the effect of bar, drinks, f**k somewhere, leave, smoke, and f**k again. It could be either one of our places the second time, of course. With Lilly, having already read this, she complied with my ideal first date for the most part. We may not have gotten a drink, but we did smoke and f**k twice. The site also asks if you do drugs, which we both replied to with “socially”. That was one of my initial attractions to Lilly, because she was honest.

            On that first night of ours I picked her up down the block in an IHOP parking lot. We chose a general, open place to meet first given the circumstance. Apprehensive at first since we did meet online, she eventually did come to my car. After our face to face introduction we decided to just go back to her place and get to know each other. No one decided to do so carnally, that just happened. She had a nice little two room efficiency downtown in the next state and next city over. It was a great spot which later became a home away from home for me.

            Lilly and I learned a lot about each other that night. She was originally a Boston chicky who moved her way down to the DMV. She was a manager at a retail clothing store which was the sole source of her income. She had a very sharp mind which one could easily cut themselves with. She had a great fashion sense and used to be a hairstylist at one point. She loved music so much she had aspirations to find a nice black church just to take part in the choir. And, on top of all of this, she happened to do heroin. Before we even kissed she made it a point to tell me, because the last person she met off of POF shunned her to her face after finding this out. He was what you call a hypocrite since the man apparently did pills like a mofo. Her being the second woman I was attracted to with this affliction, I was perfectly ok with it. In the beginning I always give people the benefit of doubt; and that’s always the case for them unless they show me otherwise. Plus if you’re familiar with heroin at all it has become so common that it’s practically not taboo any longer.

            I’ve been around that drug in one way or another for a substantial portion of my life. I listened to and read about RHCP and Nirvana growing up and knew of their habits. I was reading the likes of Irvine Welsch in middle school. And before graduating high school I’d seen it personally from a firsthand perspective. That’s including my friend’s older brother over dosing. A bunch of us left school early the day of the funeral, so you could tell who was associated by attire. Needless to say I was ok with Lilly’s addiction; therefore we got along famously.

            Moving to the DMV area was a terrible choice by proximity for her. Bodymore, Murdaland, err, traditionally known as Baltimore, Maryland, has been the heroin capital of the United States for some time. B-more is one of the major, and last port cities on the east coast. For her own reasons Lilly had an addictive personality, and when that brown frown was introduced to her she found a great means of escape. That escape had been present long before me, so luckily I was like insurance after Obamacare. Preexisting ailments are ok and don’t change anything at hand. I think in the beginning of a relationship you should be granted such. It is an understanding that we are individuals and each has our own lives and baggage. Her relationship with H was completely separate from her relationship with me.

            Lilly was actually attempting to stop that s**t when we met and at least had gotten state health insurance was attending the clinics regularly. Her addiction may have been a separate entity in the beginning, but that degree of separation began to fade. I would be staying over often and helping her by given a ride to the clinic every morning at 5:30. The thing is clinics don’t cure most, just curb their habit for a bit. She would get her fix through suboxone or methadone, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t find some more H later.

            Lilly had a circle of cohorts that helped each other out. But it wasn’t over care or camaraderie; more like self-indulgence and being a tactful addict. She could share her heroin one day with a “friend”, who would then get her back the next day. We did things together like tramp all over town, but she’d be texting and making calls the whole time trying to secure things for later that evening. Given the trust we had from the jump off I was able to attend these evenings.

            I just watched from afar since I didn’t partake. I’d normally just roll myself a blunt, put my headphones on, and just write. Lilly and her friends would sit in a circle with her kit as the center piece. The kit contained the needed amenities:

            -fresh needles

            -a spoon

            -cotton balls

            -a bottle of water

            -a shoelace

            -and an adjustable lighter to turn up and create immense heat

The needed process then happened:

            -place the heroin, which kind of looked like hash or tar, onto the spoon

            -retain a little water into a needle and spray some onto the spoon over the heroin

            -then heat the spoon continuously until the heroin has been reduced to liquid

            -place a bit of the cotton ball onto the spoon in order to soak it all up

            -you then draw the reduced heroin into the needle through the cotton ball

            -wrap shoelace, tap to find a good vein (if they all haven’t collapsed, yet), inject

These were veterans, so it’d take a while to find a vein sometimes. When they did I’d watch them inject and sink back enjoying the next five minutes. The best way to describe this is to imagine Nina Simone’s song Feeling Good. That would be the audible representation of that drug; lasting about the length of that song, too. To be honest I did try it once, with Lilly. Like I said I’d been around it for a while, and I wanted to see what all the hype was about. Take heed to my words and think that I tried heroin so that you didn’t have to. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be and I don’t understand why people do it! Like with the Oponnas I threw up throughout the night. I will say the syringes were great, though. They’re such a small gauge compared to what you’re used to medically. I know the gauges matter when it comes to certain medicinal needs, but I could barely feel the one used for this. After that night I was thoroughly experienced with H; without becoming strung out.

            As always I was with Lilly for good reason, not just the drama. We had so much fun together even taking her to the clinic. There were a number of characters I’d see so I was amused. Not so much, too, given the children I’d see accompanying them. The kids had so much more of a firsthand experience than I ever did. On one amusing occasion, though, going into the clinic we passed an old classmate of mine. He is the fattest crack head/heroin addict I’ve ever seen. This was nearly ten years after graduating, so no surprise he never did so. We caught each other’s eye and nodded, and he gave me a pound walking out. I’m not sure why exactly? It was either an acknowledgment of our past, my hot girlfriend, or maybe because he thought we shared the same habit. I’ll never know, but don’t really care.

            It was always so simple, yet so much fun with each other. I had recently gotten a smart phone and we’d watch documentaries and videos on YouTube. We’d also chill on the roof of her building sometimes. One night it was the opening game for the town’s minor league team. They had fireworks at the end of the game and we had a great vantage point. It was so romantic we ended up having sex right up there to the grand finale. Speaking of sex she would even make blowjobs so much more fun. When she gave me head I’d have to tell her all the prime numbers, or state capitals, or some list of the sort while she was down there. It was fun trying to focus my brain while she, well, gave me brain.       

            She and I even hung out with our parents on occasion. She introduced me to hers, and me, her to mine. They were both barbecues by chance. One at her parents’ house when we met, and my mother came out to Lilly’s when I introduced them. The honesty is that one great thing about my parents, is me having never to hold things back. The day my girlfriend and mother met was also when my mother met Lilly’s stray kittens. My mom still has one Lilly gave her, who happens to be dying from feline leukemia. That cat is still going strong and the love is still there, though. Lilly and I were going down the path for long term, or so I thought. I do recall how awkward the mood felt when I referred to her as my girlfriend with her parents. I not being the first man in her life I guess they knew where things were headed.

            Lilly was in the process of getting clean and actually signed up for rehab. I ended up dropping her off at the hospital one day for her to start, and that was the last time I would lay eyes on her. We may have had desires to stay together throughout, but it was too much for her given what she was going through. In the process of getting clean they actually say you are not to have romantic relations the first year because it’s too much of a distraction. I had written her a letter she received her first month, and it was the normal bullshit a boyfriend writes his girlfriend with the relevant detail needed. When she got it I got a phone call and Lilly told me she couldn’t do us anymore.

            “Us” parting was one of the rare cases when it has nothing to do with one another really. External forces did not allow us to be and it sucked. I did love that woman, but c’est la vie as I say. For whatever reason we clicked well, but unfortunately the fates didn’t see us lasting. With Lilly she was the relationship which taught me the hardest thing about love is timing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Missy

 

 

            Timing is a funny mother f****r. It’s the quintessential aspect to good comedy, is it not? On a very large scale time is the basis for the entirety of our existence.  Without some reasonable scale of it what is existence? Timing was everything when it came to my next girlfriend. The funny thing to ask is why did it happen? Have you ever gotten into something knowing it wouldn’t work out but did so anyway? That was the case with Missy. After the first night we met I had this profound assessment that I’d met my future ex-wife. I may not have known any better, or at least didn’t want to admit how astute I was, but it was true to an extent.

            Missy was a gorgeous woman with a blend of Anglo and Asian. We ended up meeting through a mutual friend. They knew each other through work, he being a DJ at the local strip clubs and her a bartender. Let me point that out again; she was a bartender, not a dancer. I emphasize this because I learned by association to not date strippers long before. I had more than one friend date a dancer and none of those relationships turned out well. I am not saying every exotic dancer is bad (because I would later date a former one); I’m just recognizing what I’ve seen.

            On that first night I could tell there was something between me and Missy by the way she looked at me and said goodbye. We chilled till the wee hours that first evening drinking and talking. She bent my ear about herself and her issues a lot, but luckily I’m a good listener. After it all came to an end I told her how nice it was to meet her; and she didn’t shake my hand, she hugged me. The length of time she held me, an eternity yet just seconds, told me a lot. I had already gotten her number hours before when that mutual friend of ours left the scene for a couple minutes.

            Missy and Drew happened to have met once before; and I remember because he stated how beautiful and how smart she was. They geeked it up together a lot since they were both into computers. She has a degree in computer engineering and information technology; also certified in a couple programs. Where Drew was living at the time is how I gained that mutual friend of ours, with Drew being his roommate. So there’s some of that amusing perfect timing of it all. She happened to be newly single when we met. I conversed and saw her a few more times, then one thing lead to another.

            For me, whenever there’s been shred of attraction towards somebody over the years, eleven out of ten times they are involved with somebody. This is why I’ve determined the platitude ‘the good ones are always taken’. This is why I felt lucky to have met Missy when I did. Any later and somebody else might’ve already yoked her up. She was an amazing, beautiful, intelligent soul; but lacked, how do I say, humility? Though it’s obvious I except women for who they are, hoping for the same in my case. If I were to admit truly knowing anything it’s that I know nothing. I have my faults, and I’m sure you’ve picked up on a few. One of my faults actually became a common ground between us. We got along really well in that we shared a certain degree of arrogance. I loved her still, but always felt she was a little over the threshold. Missy knew she was smart and knew she was pretty. Verification came from her education and the modeling she’d done for years.

            You could maybe call her arrogance a defense mechanism picked up spending the teenage years in Jersey. She was working bars and gambling scenes by seventeen. Her previous years were in the nicer parts of NOVA. These two places, and both of her parents she lived with separately, molded her into who she is. Her father worked all of the time doing government IT and she learned to take care of herself. This was helpful in moving to Jersey with her mom. This required a different role to play, though. Missy basically took care her mother when there, also like she does to this day. She’s been paying all of the bills and giving her mother spending money at least.

            Being so smart and beautiful she also learned how to work guys. A customer in Jersey pissed her off royally one evening at the bar. Her boyfriend at the time, a big mother f*****g bouncer, she had take care of things. He went outside with a couple of his buddies and flipped the dude’s car onto its roof. It was quite the scene when the customer found his vehicle like this. That’s one of the best handlings of an a*****e I’ve ever heard of, so let’s give a round of applause right quick.

            To be fare Missy was A.D.D. to an extent. I kind of referred to her as my girlfriend sooner than I should one night. This was to an old classmate of mine which knew her. Calling her my girlfriend, which hadn’t been determined yet, kind of made her a bit apprehensive as to where we were going. That old classmate of mine did warn me. He did so first, and then another former scholarly cohort. Both said Missy went through boyfriends like milk; the relationship eventually curdling and she getting bored. The latter of the two did come up with a rather accurate metaphor for this. The catch phrase which applied to her was “shelf life”. That’s comparing all of the boyfriends to milk fittingly so. No matter how much you may want that milk you picked up willingly in the first place, eventually it goes bad. Then it’s time to get a new one! The actuality of life never seems to apply to me, though, so I didn’t give a pickled rat’s a*s. However, I did keep it all in mind.

            Given my experience thus far, I was aware every relationship comes to an end. Speaking morbidly all we can hope for is that old age and mortality is the axe which severs. That certainly wasn’t the case for us, but I had a lot of fun with her beforehand.

            There is always the argument of nature versus nurture in life. We gravitate towards some things naturally, and others by the influence of those around us. I have not experienced so much throughout my life do to lack of opportunity or funds. Don’t get me wrong, that is okay. I am so happy with what I’ve found in loved ones, music, words, hiking, basketball, etc. But I am also happy to be open to new things; which I tend to pick up when I meet new women. Missy turned me on to snowboarding and kayaking for instance. I tried skiing a couple times in my youth but sucked at it. Maybe it was skateboarding as a kid that helped, but I took to snowboarding very well. By the second time I was able to make it down the hill with no problem and I enjoyed that very much. That was never the case with skiing. When it comes to kayaking it’s about as peaceful as sky diving. With the latter it may not seem that peaceful, but unless you’ve floated down with your chute out you’ll never know. These were a couple of the things we did together, and peppered in between was sex and drinking.

            Missy turned me on sexually very much so. She is nearly six feet tall, had a healthy body, an exotic look, and an insatiable sexual appetite. Having done modeling she was very aware of how to look damn good. I’d see her at the club often and her outfits were sexy spectacular. The one’s she wore for me at home, also. Again, having done modeling she had accrued quite a wardrobe. There is nothing like being in the middle of a strip club with bare chests and tang all around, and the only thing that matters to your eyes is your sexy bartender girlfriend. I’m sure every woman would say that should’ve been the case anyway, but that gives guys a good perspective.

            Being so intelligent Missy did well for herself. By her mid twenties she’d already bought a number of vehicles and her own water front house. She even took me to Atlantic City for my 28^th birthday. We went out often as well; and this was partly because she was a closet alcoholic with a gambling problem. None of her baggage mattered to me at all. S**t, I’m a closet alcoholic as well. At this point in life preexisting conditions ceased to matter. Besides, how we handle these things is who we are, and I was attracted to who she became.

 

            About three months into our relationship almost, Missy asked me to move in with her into her water front home. Alex, you poor thing, I know; but she asked me to do so partly as a means of convenience (there’s that C word again) since we were always going back and forth between our places. I was living in the next town over with a friend of mine and his girlfriend, so I said f**k it and did so. Her property was pretty bad-a*s, so the decision was fairly easy. Things went so well between us the first four months there; but the last three were a downward spiral.

            That relationship was the first one I completely handled consciously. I treated Missy like a queen. One time I made an extended effort to show her how I felt. I can’t sing very well, at least when it comes to most songs. However, once I recorded myself lip syncing to a Lynard Skynard song I Need You. I gave it to her but it most certainly did not go how I hoped; she just sort of laughed. It didn’t bother me much, though. I retain sun well which means I scientifically have thicker skin. And that’s true meta- physically or ‘phorically speaking. We going down that downward dizzying path was inevitable.

            There were many factors contributing to that end. Did you know you can be allergic to someone? I was literally allergic to her cum. It happened especially when she was on top. Missy would cum all over me, and the next day I would break out on the surrounding area to my genitalia. I never got upset and assured her it was okay, but damn should I have taken that as a sign? We may not have used condoms, nor pulled out or anything of the sort, but she never got pregnant either. I couldn’t tell you whether it was me or her, but it definitely had something to do with internal anatomy.

            Psychologically she had reached a point in life where she felt the need to do such adult things like marriage and pregnancy. Her brother had gotten married very recently, and she had a mom poking at the thought of grandchildren. I was okay with the possibility of kids, but I also told her I wouldn’t fathom the idea of marriage until at least a year. As a result of this and so many other spices those last three months were rather frustrating. In spite of everything I tried to avert, I could tell things were on their way down.

            I may have done a lot to keep it fresh, but it didn’t matter. Missy was getting bored. The only thing we enjoyed anymore was sex. We were still human of course. Beyond that, things were too vapid for us. As well for some reason, she had insecurity towards me by fluke. Missy thought I wanted to have sex other women, aside from telling her different countless times. One night in a half sleepy and drunken stupor I said one of my coworkers names for some reason. Missy woke me up with a nice open hand check to the gut. I reacted with “What the f**k?”

            “Who the f**k is Chrissy?” she said with a Jersey accent.

            “Chrissy!? I don’t f*****g know; my coworker?”

            “Oh, do you wanna f**k that b***h? You would f**k all your coworkers, wouldn’t you?” Naturally I said no with a tone like what the f**k; then she asked the same thing one more time ticking me off. So I said….

            “Babe, if I were single I’d f**k any chick I was attracted to. But I currently am not and don’t plan on it. I am exclusively with you!”

            “You f*****g s**t, you’d f**k everybody.”

Notice she disregarded my disclaimer ‘if I were single’. Missy just took this to mean there was competition I suppose, which was unfounded. I take relationships seriously, and if I chose to be with somebody it’s because I value and desire their presence; but Missy never understood that. Granted, after Missy and I broke up I did mess around with some of those fine a*s coworkers of mine, but that was after the fact.

            I believe she and I had a superficial relationship. We were with each other because we were a couple of attractive individuals. I’m not trying to be full of myself, but we were attracted to each other for good reason. Unless hotness genes offset each other, we would’ve made some gorgeous f*****g babies. Ultimately though, there wasn’t much in common. We were even ideologically different. If I must choose a label that’s best for this instance, I’m the closest thing to a liberal, but she was way too republican. It’s not that people of a different caliber can’t flourish? That just wasn’t true for us. It was ok at first thinking we’d balance each other out. I would calm her down and make her refrain and take life a little more slowly. Then she would motivate me to accomplish what I was capable of; (in a whispering tone) even though my adult child self may not have been ready, yet. Neither of which happened and we ended up becoming annoyed with one another. On a couple of occasions I voiced this annoyance. That was due to drinking a double dog IPA on top of everything else I consumed, as if there’s an excuse. If there ever was one it’d be because this Flying Dog product had 11.5 percent alcohol content. Still, there’s never an excuse for telling her the way I felt, in the way I did.

            Our last month Missy had planned a trip back to Jersey, and this was going to be solo. This was fine, because we could’ve used a break. Shortly before this was planned we had a discussion about contemplating a break. Given my experience I knew what this topic meant. When a woman brings this up it’s because she has someone in the horizon. I still didn’t want to admit this at the time, but hind sights 20/20 and all that bullshit. After being up there for a few days she phoned me and said “I’m getting married.”

            “What? You’re kidding me, this is bullshit.”

            “No, it’s happening.”

            “Well what the f**k kind of bullshit is this!?” I paused for a moment in silence. “Are you serious? Babe, you’ve got to be kidding me; you don’t want to do this.”

            She paused for a moment, “I’ve made my decision; I love him.”

            “What the f**k?.” I asked rhetorically. Then I quickly came about to retort “Ok, fine. Do what you will and have fun. And tell that man; WHO I KNOW IS LAYING NEXT TO YOU; good luck.” I kind of knew he was there because of her tone and her mood. And, she didn’t deny he wasn’t.

            I had seen this coming and finally saw the culminating truth. It was just a little surprising since we had sex right before she left; both cumming multiple times. In terms of sex that means it was so passionate you needed seconds right away. Being surprised, yet having seen this coming, I went through the stages quickly and found acceptance before the end of the conversation. I hung up on her saying “I’ll be out in a week.”

            I was warned, and being the observant mother f****r I am things were prepared for this day. It was an exit plan if you will. But I hadn’t my own vehicle at the time and actually went through two when I was with her.

            Call it bad luck, but I lost my truck a couple months before to a deer, and her truck to a telephone pole. No, I was not drunk either time. Deer are some quick elusive f***s, and her old truck didn’t handle moisture on the road very well……just kidding about her truck. I was texting while driving and I highly recommend everybody stop that s**t. That was the only lie uttered from my mouth to that woman. I felt too embarrassed to admit my wrong.

            When we split I’d luckily been holding some of my income back for a couple months. I also indirectly bought myself a new car. My old boss from that convenience store was letting me borrow an extra car he had. The inspection had come up, for which I gladly took care of, and it needed new tires. I asked the mechanic who knew him to not speak of this, but he did anyway. When finding out my friend then signed the car over to me. I was apprehensive in accepting because I’m not one for charity; but I paid $500 for those tires, and in my state the car was worth that much because the odometer no longer worked. Since the timing of this was too perfect I packed up and moved out when I said.

            When we were together it was a domestic partnership. It was the equivalent of filing your taxes together in Virginia for having cohabitated for seven years. It only took seven months of cohabitation for us, though. I gave a lot trying to make things work, but I learned from Missy that I will never sacrifice a damn thing about myself again. I moved out of a nice place, which was no longer available, in order to move in with her. As a result this forced me to move in with my father given the quick extrication. I passed up something becoming serious with a few drop dead gorgeous coworkers to be with her. I even stopped smoking weed when she was applying for IT government work. All I can say is f**k that noise anymore. I will only be with someone if they accept me exactly as is. A sacrifice will only occur if there’s love for the relationship to prosper. Missy and I’s relationship was one of honesty. I know what I’m looking for outside and in now, all around, and I’ll settle for nothing less.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kerry

 

 

 

            Kerry was an interesting “ex”. I have this in quotes because it was a long distance, never official relationship. I met her in D.C. one night when I had tickets to a NIN concert. I no longer held interest in going because of a falling out between coworkers after the place caught fire and burned. That’s the thing about coworker friends; they only last for the duration of your employment. It’s nothing personal, just the way it is a majority of the time. Even though I was no longer interested in seeing the concert with them, I still went to the city in order to attempt selling the tickets. I posted up in front of the arena with a For Sale sign and a book. I hadn’t any luck, but I spent an hour reading on a city block.

            When I realized the sale wasn’t happening I packed things up and went to an Irish pub down the block on 7^th street. This establishment’s design was centered on the bar. Walking into one door you see the bar on your right pulling the equivalent of a uey around to the other side where you’ll find another set of doors for exit or enter. First entering I made that uey to the other side and sat at the end of the bar. I ordered myself a Guinness and a neat Redbreast; or as I call it a crimson t***y. I wasn’t there long having given up my seat to a couple of women in order for them to sit together. I took my things around to the other end where I first entered to find no seats available; therefore I simply leaned on the bar next to a bookshelf. There were a couple of pretty ladies sitting next to the wall across from me; ones I had noticed entering in the first place. They apparently noticed me as well.

            One of these pretty ladies came over striking up a conversation cutely searching for an outlet to charge her phone. There happened to be one under the table where they were sitting, so she was doing reconnaissance incognito while her friend was in the bathroom. The one I was speaking with said her currently absent friend had interest and that I should come over and sit with them. I’m all about striking up conversation with beautiful strangers, so I complied.

             I found out her name was Kerry. She returned surprised to find me, but we both smiled every which way when we caught eyes. Kerry was a red headed dime piece dressed to the nines for a city night. I got that usual s**t eating grin on my face and looked her in the eye. Then I sunk a few octaves into that usual tone I use when there’s someone of interest. I reached my hand out and said “Hi Kerry, I’m Alex.”

            Trying to hold back a bigger smile she introduced herself. “Hello Alex, nice to meet you. Did Mary here tell you my name?”

            “Yes in fact. It was her suggestion I should come visit with you two.”

            “Oh yea?” smiling still looking at her friend. “Did you?”

            “Yea, I was plugging in my phone and we started talking. He was over there by himself, so I figured what the hell?”

            “And trust me; I’m more than glad to have come over. Plus I’m curious as to what you ladies are doing here this evening?”

            Kerry said, “Well, we’re pre-gaming before we head over to the NIN concert. We’re not too interested in the opening act.”

            “No s**t? You’re both here for the concert?”

            In unison they said “Yea.”

            “That is exactly why I’m her as well; well, sort of. I was just up there trying to sell my tickets. I’m not too interested in going any longer.”

            “That’s funny; I can’t believe that. Why don’t you want to go, though?”

            “It’s a long story, but in short my coworkers and I bought these months ago and now we hang out no more. We were more of a happenstance crew and I didn’t really have a good reason to go. But I guess I might now?” Cue the s**t grin.

            “Yea, by all means you should come with us.”

            “Alright, sweet. I do respect the pre-gaming by the way; that’s intelligent.”

            “I know that’s what I said. Mary and I could get drunker for cheaper, and get to miss the opening act we didn’t care about.” Smiling, she said something else. “I am glad she asked you to come over. I saw you when you came in and I was wondering where you came from with your backpack on, looking like you’re on a trek or something.” She then laughed.

            Responding with the same nervous rumble of humor, “Oh, like I said I was trying to sell my tickets. I also made it a day in D.C. for myself, coming this morning. I just walked around the city and what not and thought I needed a couple things. I have a book in there for instance. I just posted up in front of the arena with a sign and read the whole time.”

            “Why did you come here?”

            “Honestly, I was craving some Redbreast. It’s a smooth Irish whiskey. I thought an Irish pub would give me the best chances in finding it.” The conversation continued like this, back and forth with curiosities and pleasantries. Given the opportunity we ended up going to the concert together.

            Entering with Kerry actually got me better seats. Mine were in the upper deck of the basketball arena, but hers were front row about mid-court. We were a couple of perfect strangers having fun listening and dancing to good music. I really did enjoy her grinding that cute little a*s. It was just us, too, having lost her friend on the way in.

            When we left the concert I ran into the original people I was supposed to go with. Kerry was talking to her lost friend and found she made her way to a hotel room with a guy she had met when we left the bar. Everything was ok; the guy wasn’t terribly upset she passed out in his bed. I insisted I walk her there being the city at night and the given situation, but she insisted back it was ok to part. Anyway, it was only a block away from the arena with throngs of people leaving. We exchanged numbers, hugged a good five seconds, and I took my happy a*s to the 9:30 Club for some live dub step.

            Over the next couple weeks we spoke via text and I found out she was a real-estate agent in the D.C. area. However, she actually lived in Baltimore. That is one of my favorite playgrounds so I’d definitely hit her up when I was there next. Let’s say I made it a point to find reason for a trip.

            I found myself a Maryland Wolf-Pac meeting to go to. Wolf-Pac is a movement started by Cenk Uygur the founder of The Young Turks. It’s an attempt using a loophole put in the constitution by our fore fathers to create free and fair elections and reverse Citizens United v FEC. The creators of this loophole intelligently fore saw greed taking over, as it has, and allowed the people to push for laws in their own state. If passed by at least 35 of our united states, it would therefore call for a state convention and create a new amendment. And this would be without any managerial say as to its existence or not from either the bicameral, judicial, or executive branches. I figured you have to know something if you’re making this meeting your whole reason for being in the city that night.

            I went to the meeting to find out how I could help. Having already signed up to this Pac before meeting her, the email I received about that meeting was rather fitting when searching for reason to come there. I attended for genuine interest, and for detail to speak of later. Afterwards we ended up seeing each other at a Sticky Rice in Fell’s Point. I’d say we got along pretty well sharing sushi and saki. We ended up going back to her beautiful town house, where I remember going up to her room and seeing her beautiful body. It was slender, tight, and curvy in the right places.

            One thing which told be she was fairly cool was my body’s own “defense mechanism”. My dick is like any other muscle in my body; if it isn’t used regularly it will not perform well. Basically I got off and was done. I call it a defense mechanism because it weeds out those who don’t understand. Kerry did, so she called back and we made it a point to hang out with each other when we could. Though with that “mechanism” I’ve found it’s never a factor with the right woman. This is when the trifecta of attraction is present.

            Anyway, she was a Monday through Friday nine to fiver, and I was a bartender whose flagship was nights and weekends. We still did our best despite our differing schedules. I’d take off from time to time to go visit; and she conveniently had family in the town that I worked, so she was able to do the same. Kerry used to live in my town back in the day when she danced, or stripped to be exact. Yes, I finally found me one, but at least she wasn’t dancing any longer. Even with my friend’s experience I still gave Kerry a chance, because every type in the world has a whole bag of different people. Not every stripper is there for the sex and drugs. Others are paying off college, covering their bills alone, or taking care of their children with the best means of income they can find. Kerry didn’t have children or college loans, but regardless there was too much there for me to walk away.

            Her place was in the Fell’s Point district of Baltimore as I alluded to. That’s home to roughly 180 different bars and restaurants. This makes Fell’s Point, as well as the Harbor and Federal Hill benefactors to gentrification. You don’t get nicknamed Bodymore, Murdaland because everything’s been hunky dory and beautiful. Given the number of bars now located there you can imagine what we did most often. Her being an older woman with no kids she was able to drink a lot which was convenient for me being single with none myself. Kerry worked out as much as she drank, too. This was why she looked so damn fine at 45 years young. The only thing I noticed towards the end which was unsettling was that her hands reminded me of my grandmother’s. Kerry was a red head and had the same type of freckled spottiness there; so it’s pretty f*****g creepy when those hands are holding your dick. What’s funny is that in order for me know how old these hands were exactly, I had to snoop and investigate.

            I was physically attracted to Kerry, so I really didn’t care about her age. The only thing that bothered me was that we were “together”, having never officially said we were a couple, for the better half of four months and she still didn’t feel comfortable telling me her age. I had to look at her license one morning she went down stairs for coffee, but I kept it to myself and never told her I knew. Nevertheless, she had trust issues. This would become more prevalent later on.
            I introduced her to my great friends one night going out to a group dinner. Kerry got along phenomenally with them that evening. I think they did ask her age a couple times, but she was quick to diverge and not answer. So that was a good night, but the second time they all met it was confounding how different she was. Kerry was namely selfish and disrespectful to my friend the host. The host from this night is the now the live in girlfriend of Drew, and I’ll refer to her as Vee. Vee is a people pleaser. When there are people over in any context she sinks into this robo-hostess mode. Kerry took advantage of this the second time meeting her.

            First she showed trust issues by asking, when I wasn’t near, how many women I bring over and how often I f**k Vee and our other female friends. The answer was zero for both questions because it’s true, not because Vee was being a good friend and answering correctly to the new girl. The tipping point was asking, no, demanding a couple things from Vee. Kerry said at one point after midnight,

            “I thought there was going to be food to eat, and I haven’t seen anything yet?”

            “Well no, I haven’t made anything. If you’re hungry though I can see what we have?”

            “That would be great.”

She had a condescending tone the whole time speaking with Vee. Being the great hostess she is Vee baked a f*****g ham at 12:30 in the morning for that creature. Mind you, I hate this word and try to avoid using it, but this B***H didn’t even eat until the next morning. We all now refer to this as the HAM-cident. Before then, sometime after the ham, she also said to Vee,

            “I’m going to need some coffee when I wake up. I don’t do the Keurig cups.”

Vee went ahead and appeased the diva by going to the store at 1:30 a.m. I had no idea about any of this, so Kerry and I had sex later that night. When doing so Kerry was obnoxiously loud to the extent Vee could hear her two floors up.

            In regard to f*****g her I kind of fell into it and didn’t take my disrespect into account. We even had sex one more time in the morning. For some reason I didn’t think we’d be heard, plus Drew and I spoiled each other not giving a s**t what we heard when we lived together. After Kerry left Vee took me aside and talked with me about the previous night. She mentioned the sex which I apologized for, and then everything else. I was pissed, embarrassed, and disappointed. I value my friends like family, Vee being like one of my sisters. It means something when I introduce you to my friends; I’m giving you a part of who I am. Essentially, any woman brought into my life that behaves towards my family like that can go f**k themselves. Trying to give her time to correct herself and apologize, I didn’t say anything about that night to Kerry. She never did, though, and I didn’t feel it was my place to correct my elder. Kerry wasn’t stupid and aware of her actions, I’m sure. Those actions established where we were headed as far as I was concerned.

            I continued to go see her from time to time and f**k her brains out, enjoying myself for a bit longer in the selfish sense. Though she sure as rain would never be my girlfriend. I was patiently waiting for her to realize this and end things. Call it selfish, but it’s so much easier. Kerry would end things on her terms and have no queries as to what’s wrong or if it had anything to do with her age, which it didn’t. Do to my schedule I had to reschedule a number of times. Me doing so again one night she replied with a text:

            I think ur a nice person however, this isn’t working for me. We’ll b better off as friends. I’m cancelling tonight. I don’t mean any of this in a mean way....take care. J

It had been a month and a half since that terminal evening, so I thought to myself “Finally!” I responded accordingly with:

            Well f**k me (figure of speech, not a request). That’s a shame Kerry, my bag is packed and all. I suppose I understand, though. Relationships are hard enough, and we have two separate lives 60 miles apart. However, I’m grateful for the time we did have. Lord knows I’ll consistently associate NIN with you, lol. I’ll miss you and your friends; I had a lot of fun with you. If we are on a platonic level you all can feel free to hit me up anytime.

            Kerry was the first woman I’d been with and absolutely made no forfeit. With Emmy I learned there should be a degree of sacrifice in a relationship, but didn’t know exactly what that meant. I sacrificed my friends with Milly choosing a hoe before a bro. I learned my lesson there. I slighted certain things of myself with Missy doing all I could to make things work. Again I learned. That would make Kerry the first one I put all of my lessons into effect with. She was the learning curve of relationships. Despite her hotness and the fun we had I learned to unequivocally and unconditionally applaud the people I love first; and to love myself a little bit more. I’m aware that I will find that woman where none of that s**t is an issue. I am looking for the woman if you will. To quote Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:

            “In [my] eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.”

But we’re not talking an Irene Adler. No, we’re talking somebody real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Final Thoughts

 

 

            Romantically speaking this was an account of my experience with the ten most important women in my life thus far. Anymore I find myself in a maze of p***y I’m trying f**k my way out of. This labyrinth of women isn’t as much fun as it may sound; one of them gave me Chlamydia. That’s a completely treatable and reversible STD that’s so common they’ve stopped treating it in Europe for the most part; but, an STD nonetheless. It’s fun sending texts to the most recent of them all to warn them.      Sometimes I wonder if there’ll ever be someone else near the level of my past. In metaphor I’m afraid women are like heroin with that first high being the most incredible thing in the world. Now I’m in a constant search, finding variations of the first, some greater, but the longer I look I’m further from the beginning. The choice is whether to be positive or pessimistic. Playing the lottery more and more either increases the odds of winning, or grows into an insurmountable chance? I’m a dreamer, so I believe in the first.

I’ve had ten that I’ve chosen to write about so far, so I think that says something. In hindsight, I’m fairly fond of each of them and value their influence and the time I was graced with. I will never forget nor undervalue everything gained. Emmy, Milly, Cassy, Mackenzy, Missy, Perry, Lilly, Kennedy, Tammy, Kerry; all of them played a very important role for me. It’s funny when you think about everything that lead up to each one.

            As said, in many ways we walk through life blindly. With some we’re caught in a parable of the cave accepting shadows for what we’re told they are. To explain the unexplained we use incorporeal entities with some. In most cases however, no matter our expectation or itinerary, we wake everyday having no clue what the f**k might happen. That last one is my reason for life.

            It’s the fact that anything is possible; just look at my experiences. Daniel asked me once, “What gets you out of bed?” That was simple for him, his children. For me in my observable universe it is greatness and opportunity which are the driving factor. It’s experiencing new people and things, as well as enjoying the ones already found. It’s immersing myself into the lives of incredible new people, but holding tightly onto the ones already there. The ones I love and to which love me, and the paths we found are the reason I feel I’m the luckiest mother f****r ever. Just think about everyone you’ve known in life.

            Your fates were merged before you met. Their role, their meaning, their exit already determined somewhat. Now think about all of the minutiae that contributed to your meeting. It is mind boggling, isn’t it? The result of who you are now is everybody you’ve known and how you got there. Now think of this.

            What if your parents never met, namely had sex? What if your father zigged when he should’ve zagged? Hopefully that doesn’t bring a visual. Ultimately you would cease to exist and wouldn’t be reading my words. If you’re lucky, feel the person in bed next to you. Your meeting was in motion long before love was even a glimmer in your eye. Every choice the women here made or were brought into, is why we ended up meeting.

            My uncle whom I love was adopted. This was a result of my military grandparents having and losing one child, and finding themselves in Bad Tolz, Germany at the right place and the right time; with the right heart and mind set. The detail there that my family had long been in the military; that they find themselves in Bad Tolz; that that particular child was placed for adoption was generations in the making. That’s also the case for every woman I’ve met and will.

            I hope you can see the connectionism between it all. Connectionism is the theory that all mental processes can be described as the operation of inherited or acquired bonds between stimulus and response. So technically speaking, the mental processes and choices my grandparents or I made were due to the inherited influence acquired through previous responses to outer influences, which begets where we found ourselves in life. Aside from outlying pull, where I am now mentally, emotionally, and physically is the result partly of the nature and nurturing of my Grandpa and Gaga, hence influence; and my experience and choice throughout life, hence these ten lovely women.

            As to why I am completely enthralled and fascinated by the process which brought me everyone I love, I have a funny example. The great grandparents I know were high school sweethearts; but this didn’t last and they created their own lives and families. Then eventually both of them became widows to their own spouses. After this, they were given the opportunity to solidify their previous young love by marrying each other in their mid 60’s. Finding previous love again when you’re sixty something gives me hope.

            I wouldn’t change a damn thing about life thus far because I know and love who I am as a result. I’m thirty and am discernibly not settled down yet, given the plurality of them all. Each important woman whom I’ve had shares a little portion of my heart; property value influencing size held so to speak. My heart is colossal, though, and there’s still plenty of room left. I’m still in search of that one to eclipse them all. Our paths were already intertwined and I can’t wait to see how they culminate. I don’t feel I’ve completely and utterly loved since Emmy; but that’s ok since I’m a patient individual. I have an idea of what not to look for, just not too much of a clue as to who? Lately there’s been other’s fiancés, women from a second round on POF, more coworkers with addictions, customers, musicians, and fellow writers who are pregnant. There’s even been a good friend, but nothing is taking hold for some reason. This is a platitude, but the sad thing is it has nothing to do with them, only me. I just can’t wait to see what makes her the woman I can love whoever she may be. Are we kindred spirits, are we opposites, who the f**k knows? I hate the word guarantee because there’s no such thing, but all I can say is that we’ll look at each other and know. We will know we’ve found the one to tramp through the remainder of life with.

            Now what is the end result of everything that’s lead me to this point in life? I wrote this because something I’ve done for some time is listening to myself. My inner voice if you will? In consequence I know myself very well, and trust myself very much. This is something I hope everyone can do for themselves. I wear my heart on my sleeve and have a do not give a f**k attitude as a defense mechanism. I’m also as honest as can be because there’s no easier way to go through life. I also respect females.

            I refuse to ever lay a hand on one again and will never let go of that sick feeling I get when thinking of when I did. I will always keep our differences in mind and will allow leagues of room for understanding. I’ll never be amazed a woman can do something as well or better because that’s sexist in itself. I will always treat them as my equal counterpart, or the yin to my yang. I will forever treat them the way I’d like to be treated. I will do my absolute best to keep their feelings and thought in mind before I take action or say word ever again. I laugh to myself because that’s all we can ever really do in life, try our absolute best.

            I’m an old soul at heart and have been pontificating on life since my youth. These words were written because I felt they needed to be put out there. Maybe just for me? It reminds me of Mary Schmich, a columnist for the Chicago Tribune. She wrote what I first heard to be a song from Baz Luhrmann called Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen. He’s an incredible screenwriter, producer, and director I feel lucky to have been present for in my span of life. There’s no disrespect, but that song, speech, or article is so profound and astute I should’ve assumed Miss Schmich wrote it. Aside from the entire thing there are two particular parts which stick with me.

            One part says that we’re not always at an advantage in life, but the chase is lengthy, and ultimately only with our mind and heart. That contributes to why I’ve wrote a memoir at 30, feeling I’m ahead of the game when it comes to my grasp. The second part is no matter what’s done you shouldn’t applaud yourself in heaps, nor chide yourself neither. The end result is fifty/fifty, and that’s true for everyone. We forget that life is the flip of a coin sometimes. I’ve made some stupid choices as well as good. The best and only thing I can ever do with them is learn. Now tell me……what does love mean to you and what are you going to do with it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

 

Author's Note

If it's not obvious all of the names have been changed, except for my own. Let me know what you take from this; what you think?