I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 22

I was at my friend David’s house when my water broke. At first, I thought the baby had hit my bladder really hard. I waddled into the bathroom only to learn it wasn’t my bladder and silly me; I hadn’t bothered to wear a pad of any kind, so there was water everywhere. I started yelling for my friend, but it was summertime and the windows in his house were open, so he didn’t realize at first that it was me yelling for him. One of his sons mopped up the water, while I called the doctor. He told me that although labor hadn’t started, to go ahead and go to the hospital as the sac is the baby’s last defense against infection.

So, I borrowed a towel, we went to my house to grab another towel and my hospital bag, then drove to the hospital. I had my mother page Ricky to tell him what was happening.

When we arrived at the hospital, a nurse brought me a wheelchair to take me to a room. She looked at me and said, “You’re not in labor.”

I said, “How do you know?”

“When women in labor come in, they’re preoccupied with what’s going on. You’re not.”

“Oh.”

I was taken to a room and hooked up to monitors. Then I was told they could either induce labor or I could get up and walk around for 20 minutes or so in hopes of starting labor on my own. I chose to walk around. I’d walk around for 20 minutes or so, then go back to the room. A few times I started feeling like labor might start, but the moment I stopped walking, labor stopped, too. I finally said I’d like to be induced. I learned from one of the nurses that my doctor used the medication that starts labor to mimic natural labor, which was a good thing. Apparently some doctors will use it to “rocket” babies out.

While I waited for labor to get started, I dozed. It was late in the evening and I was tired. I was very glad I got some sleep while I could. When the labor really got going, it was intense. I’d had monthly cycles that were so painful it was all I could to stand up and function, so I figured labor wouldn’t be that bad. Wrong! I had back labor so bad that I felt like I had a miniature Mack truck trying to come through my spine.

My friend, David and my sister-in-law, Danice were in the labor room with me. When the pain got really bad, they’d take turns making a fist and pushing on my spine to mitigate the pain. It worked for a time and I was grateful for their efforts while it worked. When it stopped working, I asked for pain killers. They told me I wasn’t dilated enough, but they could give me something called, “Stadol (I have since learned that this drug is no longer used).”

It didn’t stop the pain, but it made it so that I didn’t care. I thought of it as being drunk without the hangover. The next contraction came along and I thought, “I’m in pain and I don’t care.”

Eventually I was dilated enough for the pain killers. Once that happened, everything was easy. When my son was part way out, one of the nurses said, “This baby’s so pretty, it just has to be a girl.”

I said, “No! It can’t be! It’s got to be a boy.” I couldn’t prove it as when the day for the ultra sound came that might allow me to know my child’s sex, his legs were crossed and the umbilical cord was in the way. I’d just always known. Don’t ask me how I knew, I couldn’t say, but I do know my mother had the same instinct about the three of us and she was always right. I think she even knew what the sexes were the two times Danice was pregnant. I had a girl’s name chosen just in case I was wrong, but I wasn’t.

There was one time when mother was wrong. A few months before I announced that I was pregnant, she called me at work to tell me that Mike and Danice were going to announce that they were pregnant again, around the holidays. I told her no way: that they were done.

She said, “You think so?”

I said, “I know so.” Well, right idea, wrong person. I was the one who announced a pregnancy just after the New Year that year.

Being a single mom was something I didn’t plan, but other than the fact that his father was not involved in his life, I have no regrets. Having my son, Caleb rearranged my life in ways I didn’t expect. Suddenly I went from “wild and free Mayone” to being “a single mom with her hands full taking care of her baby.”

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 21

By the time I did have contact with him again, I’d had a child (more on that later). Several years after that conversation, I’d done enough healing to feel comfortable having contact again. I’d heard from mother that he’d remarried, but figured I could handle that. So, I looked him up on Facebook. His profile is locked up tight, but at the time there was an e-mail address, so I sent him an e-mail asking how he was doing. Minutes later I received a new friend request on Facebook from him. I was so excited I nearly did a happy dance around the house.

For the next six weeks I was walking around in a happy fog. I didn’t find any sign on his page that he was still married, so I wondered how things would be between us this time. Not only that, but he posted something that I believe was directed at me, even though I can’t prove it. During this time, I sent him a message asking about his aunt and her children, which he never responded to.

Then on Valentine’s Day he posted something I liked, then wrote in the comments, “For my wife.”

I was shocked and hurt. Then I got angry. I was so angry that if I could have physically slapped him, I probably would have. I couldn’t sit still, so I went for a walk. I remember at one point glancing at a stranger. I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t want contact with me. That’s when I realized that if someone looked at me wrong or said the wrong thing to me, I was likely to go off.

When I got home, I sent him a message on Facebook in which I told him off. I told him that his profile should reflect the fact that he was married, as the lack of any relationship status made it look like he was looking for someone.

He replied that it was a privacy issue. I told him that everyone knew you could set up your Facebook profile so that only your friends could see anything. He blocked me after that. Shortly after that he sent me an item for a game we played on Facebook. I’m not sure he was paying attention because it allowed me to go to his profile and undo every like I’d ever done on his posts.

A few years later I was talking to a sweet lady who also turned out to be wise, when for some reason I told her about my last contact with Dorn. She looked at me and said, “You can’t control what he does. You can’t control whether or not he responds to your messages or tells you he’s married.”

I looked at her and realized that she was right. Then I felt like I wanted/needed to apologize to Dorn, but since it’s been a few years since we’ve had any kind of contact, it wasn’t a good idea. So, I got a journal and wrote out what I was feeling. Later, I found another journal where I write letters I know I won’t send and wrote one to him in there.

Several weeks after I left his house for the last time, Ricky, an employee at a gas station I frequented gave me his pager number and asked me to call him. I didn’t plan to as I knew I wasn’t ready for another relationship, but after a couple of weeks, I figured, “why not?”

He was surprised when he realized it was me on the phone. He said that I’d taken so long to call that he didn’t think I was going to. I just said that I’d been busy. We started hanging out. He played darts in a league, so I learned to play and eventually bought my own darts because I enjoyed playing so much. I even tried to join the league, but none of the teams had openings and I didn’t know enough people interested in darts to form one of my own.

We became sexually involved early on at my request. He was kind enough to ask if I was sure. I said I was, but now I wish I hadn’t. Every time we got together anywhere private after that, he wanted sex. We used condoms, but as happens, one failed at the right time of the month for me.

By the time I learned I was pregnant, I was thinking I needed to break up with him. I knew by then that we weren’t going work out. Finding out I was pregnant was a shock. I’ll never forget that night. I’d just gone back to work after being out sick for a week, but I was still tired. I’d had suspicions based on things not being “normal” with me, but was planning to wait to see if I missed a second monthly cycle. Being sick made me realize that I needed to know ASAP.

So, I bought a test on the way home from work that night. When I took it, I got the shock of my life. I was pregnant! I looked at the test, went through the steps again in my head, looked at the test again. There was no doubt in my mind. I then paged Ricky to tell him. He asked if I was sure. I said, “Yes. Do you want to see the test?”

“No, that’s all right.”

From then on, everything I did was to ensure a healthy pregnancy. I even ate bananas, which at the time were one of my least favorite fruits, but it was better than no fruit at all. It didn’t take long for me to start showing. I was wearing sweat pants by the end of my third month because my jeans no longer fit. Thankfully, as long as my clothes were clean and in good condition, I could wear what I wanted at work.

I was lucky with the morning sickness. I’d get up and be slightly nauseous, but as soon as I ate breakfast, I was fine. A couple of my friends were pregnant at the time and they had it bad. Neither of them could eat much nor stand the smell of food.

Ricky asked me not to tell anyone outside of family that I was pregnant as he wanted to be sure I’d carry the baby to term. That made for a couple of interesting situations at a bar where we hung out and played darts. One lady looked at me in passing, then paused. I asked her what was up. She just shook her head, then said, “Are you pregnant.”

I confirmed that I was and told her we were keeping it to ourselves for now. She understood.

Another night I went to the bar for a dart tournament or something immediately after work. I was exhausted, so I sat in one chair with my legs on another. After being on my feet all day at work, I needed to put my feet up. One of the other dart players came by and offered to buy me a drink. I said, “Some grapefruit juice would be lovely.”

He looked at me like I was nuts and said, “I said, ‘I’m buying.’”

I repeated my order and he said, “What’s the matter? You pregnant or something?”

I just grinned at him. Then I told him that I was and that we weren’t telling anyone till I was into my second trimester. Once I hit my second trimester, there was no hiding the fact that I was pregnant. By the time I was in my third trimester, people were telling me I’d never make it to my due date. I’d tell them to hide and watch. I was almost right: he came three days early.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 20

The tension between her and I might have gone on indefinitely if not for an incident that occurred when I stopped by one night. The moment I walked in, I saw a lovely painting on the wall that was mostly obscured by a statuette of an owl. I teasingly said, “Why’d you put the owl in front of the painting?”

            He shrugged as he said, “I don’t know,” then he handed me a hammer and said, “but, if you can find another place for the owl go ahead.”

            As I took the hammer from him, I heard Debbie say, “Not that again. We’ve already gone round about it once tonight. Leave it alone.”
            I ignored her, but inwardly I seethed. “How dare she tell me what to do?! This isn’t her house!”

            I knew then that I needed to talk to Dorn privately. I called him and arranged a time to see him alone.

            When I walked into his house, he said he needed to work on something while we talked. I followed him to a computer he’d set up in a room off the living room. He brought a chair in for me and I sat. I asked him how he’d felt about what happened between Debbie and I a few nights prior.

            He told me he’d noticed and he’d made it clear to her when she left that night that she was out of line. He then told me that he’d given her a key to his house so that she could come and go as she pleased and that she took care of his dog if he needed to be gone. That when they said “good night,” she often kissed him. I became jealous, but hid it as best I could.

He also said he saw what was going on between us and that if open war broke out between us, he’d lock up the house and disappear so that no one could find him. We talked a little while longer. When I left that evening, I felt gratified that he’d told Debbie she’d been out of line for ordering me around as she’d tried to do. I also decided I needed to back away for a few weeks. I knew if I stuck around, things would just get worse. I figured it was better to find other things to do till I could either handle being around both of them without wanting to throw her out or worse. So, I went to work, then found other things to do while I tried to work out how best to deal with her presence without driving him away.

            A few weeks later, I called him to see how he was. He asked me why I hadn’t been around. I told him I’d been busy. I wish I’d told him the reason wasn’t that “I was busy,” but that I thought it best to back away rather than risk driving him away. I was afraid if I did that though, he’d think I was more interested in him than I could even admit to myself. I asked him how Debbie was doing.

            “Why?” He said, suspiciously.

            “Oh, just curious.” I said. He told me that he’d taken his house key back and she’d quit coming around or returning his calls. I was thrilled. I could now go back to seeing him without fear of running into her.

            I got back into the habit of going to his house after work. After a while, he started asking me about my feelings for him. He was offering to help me out, but I told him that he couldn’t. I had to learn how to deal with my feelings for him on my own. I sometimes wish I’d asked him how he thought he could help, but I think I was afraid to.

            I was visiting another friend one day when I recounted a conversation with Dorn to him. I said that I’d told Dorn that I wanted to see his marriage come back together, regardless of how it affected me. He looked at me and said, “You really love him don’t you?”

            I just stared at him as my jaw hit the ground. “I what?! I love him?”

            I walked out of his house with my head spinning. Over the next three days, it sunk in. I’d fallen in love with Dorn. The part that really surprised me though, was that in the past when I’d “fallen in love” with someone, it was because we’d had a sexual relationship. Dorn and I had never done anything more than hug, except for the one time I kissed him on the cheek for his birthday. 

The hardest part of that was that I couldn’t have him not only because of his marriage, but because he’d told me that he didn’t see us ever getting together as more than friends. Unfortunately, the heart wants what it wants.

A few weeks after I realized that I’d fallen in love with him, I knew that I needed to cut our friendship off. Not because I wanted to, but because I knew that the more I hung out with him, the more I’d want him. The more I wanted him, the harder it would be for me to contain my feelings.

I went to his house one last time and told him that I was cutting off our friendship. I didn’t tell him I was afraid my feelings would overwhelm me and that I’d do something we’d both regret, but rather that I had other emotional baggage to deal with and I couldn’t handle how I felt about him, too. He tried to talk me out of it. It would have been so easy to let him do so, but I knew it’d be dangerous for both of us if I did.

As I drove away that night, I had to hold back tears for fear of not being able to see properly. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him or have any contact with him again.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 19

A day or two later, I got home from work, exhausted. I took a short nap, then looked in the fridge for dinner. Seeing nothing interesting, I decided to go out. Before I left, I called Dorn. When he learned it was me on the phone, he started laughing as he told me that he’d been about to call me. Then he said, “What’s up?”

I said, “I’m going to Wendy’s for dinner as there’s nothing interesting here.” He suggested meeting me there so the two of us could have dinner together. I dashed into my room, changed into my favorite sweater and matching earrings, then ran out the door. When I pulled into the Wendy’s parking lot, he was already there, which surprised me as he lived further away than I did. As I pulled into a parking spot, I saw his face partially in profile. I thought, “How in the world did I miss the fact that his nose is so big?”

He got out of his vehicle as I got out of mine. The first thing he said to me when he got a good look was, “When did you grow up?”

I smiled and said, “I tried to tell you.” He suggested another restaurant, so we got in his truck and went. As we ate, I learned that he wasn’t divorced, but rather separated from his wife.

After dinner he drove me back to my car. We talked for a few more minutes, then as I was about to unlock my car door, he said, “How about a hug?”

I said, “Really? I wasn’t sure you’d want one.”

“We’re friends aren’t we?” So, we hugged, then got in our cars to go home.

We met for breakfast as planned a couple of days later, then spent the day “bumming” as he called it. That meant that we visited a lot of antique shops to window shop. I found a little vase I wanted, but didn’t have the $2 in cash, so I was going to write a check. As I started to do so, Dorn stopped me, while pulling his wallet out. He paid for it with cash.

We talked on the phone almost daily after that. One night he invited me to his house for dinner. I started dropping in on him one or two nights a week after that, maybe more. If I’d known then what was going to happen, I might not have dropped in so much.

            I’d sit on his couch or in a chair and we’d talk. We talked about life, his marriage, our jobs, just whatever occurred to us. If I wasn’t at his house, we frequently talked on the phone. During one conversation he said, “What’s the first thing you do when you go out the door?”

I said, “Open the door.”

            He said, “No, you decide to go.” I had to laugh, but I realized that he was correct. The decision comes before the action.

            One night I drove to his house and saw a strange car parked in front. I slowed down to see if I could get a look at who was with him. As I drove by, I saw a heavy set figure with long hair. I figured it was probably his wife, so I should leave them alone in hopes they were working things out.

            As I drove away, I realized that the woman in the window couldn’t be his wife. I’d seen a picture of the two of them together and the woman I’d just seen was too heavy and her hair was too long. So, I drove back, parked, and then walked up to his door with my stomach in knots. He opened the door, raised his brows, and then stepped back for me to enter.

            As I entered the house, he introduced me to the woman I’d seen as I drove by the first time, Debbie.     We acknowledged each other and he told me that he’d run into her while doing errands. They’d gone to high school together. Things were okay between us at first, but not for long. It seemed that every time I dropped in on Dorn, she was always there. I actually started making it a point to stay till she left for the evening as that was the only way I got to talk to him privately.

            One night when we were all there, he started working on a computer he’d put in the living room. I asked him about fancy fonts for a project I had in mind. He typed something up in a few different fonts, printed it out then handed it to me to look at. As I stood there looking at the paper, Debbie stretched out her hand and told me to let her have it. I was basically done looking at it, but her attitude rubbed me wrong, so I continued to look at it a bit longer before complying.

            At this point I knew I was interested in him, but he was still married and no matter what I felt for him, I respected his marriage vows. However, it soon became clear that she was also interested in him.

            One day, Dorn told me he was having a barbeque at his house. He was expecting lots of people, so I baked a huge cake. Only me, Debbie, her sister and her sister’s daughter showed up. We decided to play Frisbee in the yard as Dorn’s house had a nice big yard. It started out well enough, but pretty soon the Frisbee was only being thrown from me to Dorn or Debbie to Dorn, etc. Dorn would throw it to someone else, but if one of us got it, we always threw it to him.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 18

When I was about 12 years old, mother took us to her friend, Liz’s house to stay for a few days. Liz had three children herself, two boys and one girl, so we had company. Turns out Liz’s 18 year old nephew was staying there, too. I took one look at him and had a crush on him. At first, I just kind of hung out near him. Then, as I felt safer, I’d talk to him. To him, I was just the daughter of his aunt’s friend.

From then on, if we were going to Liz’s house, I hoped he’d be there. As we’d get closer to her house, I’d crane my neck to look out the car window just in case he happened to be moving around outside. Not that he ever was, but hope dies hard.

He joined the army at some point and became a helicopter pilot. One night, I couldn’t sleep for some reason. Dorn was up ironing his uniform for the next day so, I got up then walked over to where he was. He looked at me and said, “What’s up?”

I told him I couldn’t sleep, so he invited me to sit at the table while he finished ironing his uniform. As I sat there, he talked with me like I was a person, not a young girl who belonged in bed. He told me stories about being an army helicopter pilot such as how when flying one day, he and his co-pilot “copped a case of the munchies” as he put it, so they checked the area. There was a Dunkin’ Donuts nearby and they could see that there was room to land and no one would get hurt, so they landed. They ran over to the shop, bought some snacks, then got back in the air. What they didn’t count on was being caught on radar. When they got back to the base, they had to report to the commander’s office.

He also told me that when the men were in the desert, they often wore nothing more than a pair of sunglasses because it was so hot. There were no women there at the time, so that wasn’t an issue. I looked at him with my jaw on the table and said, “Really?”

“Yep. No one else around for miles, so why not?” I just shook my head as I tried to imagine that.

The last time I saw Dorn at Liz’s house, he’d recently gotten out of the army. I was dating Danny. My crush on him hadn’t abated, so I did what I could to be in his presence, even though Danny had come with us. As I sat on the floor in front of the couch where he was sitting, I looked up at him and realized he was very different from the man I’d met a few short years ago. His hair was longer for starters. The thing that really showed how much he’d changed though, was when Danny presented me with a bracelet. He claimed it had been made by “Speidel.”

Something about the bracelet didn’t look right for a Speidel product, so I flipped it over. On the back was stamped “Avon.” I looked up and said, “This was made by ‘Avon.’”

Danny looked at Dorn then said, “She can read!”

They laughed like it was some big joke. I looked at Dorn and thought, “What happened to the kind, respectful man I used to know?”

I never did figure that out. When we left that day, I eventually forgot about him as Liz moved her little family half way across the country for several years. We did get word at one point that Dorn was in the hospital and they weren’t sure he was going to live, but he did.

Years later, I arrived home from a long day at work to find another car parked in my usual spot. After parking on the street, I walked up to the house to see a heavyset figure standing in front of the sliding glass door with their back to it.

When I opened the door, the person turned around. To my surprise, it was Dorn’s aunt Liz. I walked in, put my stuff in my room, and then started talking to her. During the course of our conversation, she mentioned that Dorn was living in a town nearby. I asked how he was doing. While she answered I frantically thought, “Dorn? Dorn? Who’s Dorn? Oh, yeah, her nephew upon whom I used to have a crush.”

It’d been so many years that I’d forgotten all about him. As we talked about him, she told me he was divorced and was always looking for someone to go dancing with. I told her if he’d teach me the kind of dancing he liked to do, I’d go with him. She said she might bring him by someday soon. Shortly after that she left.

I asked mother how they’d reconnected after all those years. Turns out her daughter and my brother, Michael saw each other in a fast food restaurant and had a moment of mutual recognition. They exchanged contact information, including mother’s number, which she passed on to her mother.

About a week or so later, I was working late as my boss hadn’t come in to relieve me, when my mother called me at work to tell me that Dorn had called. Not only that, but he’d asked for me. “He asked for me,” I said in surprise.

“Yes,” she said. I didn’t know what to think. I certainly hadn’t expected that. On the drive home that night, I worried about what we’d talk about. After all, we hadn’t seen each other in about 20 years at this point and the last time I’d seen him, he’d been a big jerk.

When I got home that night, I paced anxiously as I waited for him to call again. I wondered what we’d talk about. I mean, it’s not like we were great friends back then. When he did call back, it was if we’d always been friends. We talked for over two hours, during which time we made arrangements to get together that weekend. At the end of our call, he gave me his number and told me I could call him if I wanted to talk before we met up again. Then he told me that he’d changed. I tried to tell him that I had, too.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 17

Another fellow asked me out and then didn’t show up on time. I waited five minutes and when he didn’t show I left. I went home and called him. He said he’d been there. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and went to his apartment to pick him up. I was totally unimpressed by the way he dressed. It was a warm summer day so I’d worn a nice lightweight denim dress. He was wearing a t-shirt with some kind of bird or animal on it and plaid shorts. The clothing made me think of a man lounging at home with some friends or doing his housework, not going on a first date with an attractive lady.

We went to see “Pocahontas”, which I chose at his request. When she and the English man met, he leaned over and quietly said, “Ugh! Boy meets girl. Now we make baby.”

After the movie, his main topic of conversation was sex despite my attempts to make it clear I didn’t wish to discuss my sexual preferences. I was glad when the date was over.

The last customer at my job that I went out with turned out to be something. I’m not sure what. He claimed to be Christian and married, but was away from his wife because of his job and wanted to be friends. I didn’t have a problem with that. However, his behavior said otherwise. He kissed me a lot and told me how he coped with his sexual urges. Then asked me how I coped with mine. I told him it was none of his business. He protested that he’d told me how he dealt with his. I thought, “But I didn’t ask for that information nor would I have.”

The thing that really tore it for me though was an overnight camping trip. We slept fully clothed in the back of his van. Periodically I would wake up to roll over and his legs would be on mine. I couldn’t believe it. The next morning I told him I wanted to go home that day. He took me home and on the way I noticed that his van’s exhaust fumes had a tendency to come up into the interior where I would end up breathing them and to make matters worse, I was very pregnant. He called me a day or so after he took me home and I told him in no uncertain terms that I never wanted to see him again. I only wish I could have slammed the phone in his ear, but that’s not possible with a cordless phone.

I met a few men online. Most of which, I didn’t meet in person for one reason or another. One of them got upset with me one night because I didn’t respond to his e-mails right away. After reading how upset he was, I e-mailed him back and reminded him that I had a life. I was a single mom and a full-time college student who didn’t have time to sit in front of a computer waiting for his e-mails. I got one more e-mail from him saying that he was going out of town for a few days. I never heard from him again.

A few men sent me their pictures, though I didn’t ask. One got upset with me when my repeated attempts to e-mail him one of me didn’t work. The others just kind of faded away.

Another one asked me in a phone conversation if I was a good kisser. I told him I’d never had any complaints. The question turned me off and gave me serious doubts about meeting in person. In fact the night we were to meet, I tried to call him and call off the meeting. Unfortunately he’d already left, so I stood him up.

            Another man I met online and then went out with was the worst kisser I ever met. He somehow managed to bump teeth with me several times. But what really got me was his tendency to put his hand on my breast despite my repeatedly moving it away. When I brought it up over the phone, a few days after our date, he said he hadn’t understood that my moving his hand away meant, “Leave my breast alone.”

I really hit the roof at that. How could he not understand?!

            I met the last man I was supposed to go out with at church because my mother knew him. He would make dates with me and then call me up to tell me he couldn’t make it. Given his living situation, I understood. He was living in something of a half-way house and there were rules he had to follow. The last time he asked me out, however, I asked him if he was absolutely sure he could make it this time. He assured me he could. The day and time he was to call me and let me know the exact time came and went, there was no phone call. He finally called me a week and a half later. When I questioned him about what happened, he said he’d gotten busy. I replied, “Too busy to call me?”

He got rather defensive and that was the last time we spoke. I learned later from my mother that he’d tried to pass it off as a misunderstanding. Considering I’d done what I could to be sure of details, there was no misunderstanding. Mother also told me that she’d warned him not to make me mad. I guess some people just have to learn the hard way.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 16

I met one fellow at the church I attended. His name was Bob and he seemed nice enough. He took me to a baseball game, then proceeded to explain things to me as if I couldn’t tell what was going on. I said something about it and he told me he liked to explain things. Another time he took me to a local amusement park where he played some of the arcade games. When he won, he chose what he wanted and kept the prizes. I remember being puzzled. After all, wasn’t it normal for a man to win the prize and give it to the lady with him?

            In this case, I believe the relationship ended because of an incident totally unrelated to us as a couple. I was living at mom’s house and one night, a friend of my mom’s and her little girl stopped in for a visit. The little girl became thirsty and we offered her some juice. I went to the fridge to get her some and there were two identical containers containing similar liquids. I knew one was starter for a special cake and the other was juice, but I wasn’t sure which was which. After looking at each container carefully, I chose the one I thought contained the juice. The little girl drank two small glasses and pretty soon we realized she wasn’t quite herself. We quickly realized I must have given her the cake starter by mistake and that it was alcoholic. I was horrified and embarrassed.

Bob came by to take me to evening service at church and agreed to take the little girl and her mom with us, so that we could get her prayed for. As he parked the car, the little girl started singing in a drunken voice and I giggled about it. He snapped at me that it wasn’t funny. That was the last time I heard from him.

            There was George whom I met through a radio call in show. When I met him, I had 3 cats, one male and two female. George didn’t seem to mind my female cats, but every time my male cat got within a few feet, he made karate motions as if he wanted to chop him up. Then one night he called me to apologize for going to a strip club with his friend, something he’d promised me he’d never do. I didn’t really care that he’d gone. What did bother me was the fact that he was crying and sounded drunk. Between that and the way he reacted to my male cat, I got to thinking, “what would happen if George got angry while drunk?”

I broke it off shortly after that. He told me he’d never hurt me and that just made me more sure than ever that he was dangerous since I’d told him I was breaking it off because his mother and I didn’t get along.

I met one fellow over the phone one night when I called his apartment looking for his roommate. Somehow we started talking and discovered that we both like country music. A few days later he called me to say that Wynona Judd and Clint Black were coming to a venue a few hours away, and would I like to go. Of course I would. Wynona is one of my all-time favorite artists. As we got closer to going, he asked if I would drive as my car was more economical than his. Then he said that because he’d bought our tickets for the concert, I could drive over and back, paying for the gas out of my pocket, of course. A few days later, I brought up the fact that we would need to eat something somewhere along the way. He said he’d buy the food if I’d buy the drinks. Turned out his idea of food was cheese and crackers. I couldn’t believe what a cheap jerk he was. I was under the impression that when a man asked a woman out, he picked up the tab, unless they agreed at the start to go Dutch. Not only that, but at the concert he bought himself a program, but didn’t offer to do so for me. If he treats every woman he dates that way, he’ll never marry anyone with any brains.

There were a few men I met through my dry cleaning job. Frank was the first. Towards the end of our relationship he admitted to having used me, but justified it by saying I’d used him too. It took me a long time to figure out that I’d used Frank as an escape from my living situation. I spent the night with him whenever possible, so I wouldn’t have to be at home.

Then there was Brian. Things looked really good at first. He even told me he’d considered making me his. Then he suddenly seemed to drop off the face of the earth. After several months of no contact from him, I went to his place of business one day to give him some information for an event I thought he’d enjoy, plus it was a fund raiser for a good cause, otherwise I wouldn’t have gone. Brian wasn’t there, but his father was. When I told him the purpose of my visit, he told me his son had married and moved to another state. I was pretty surprised. I later realized that he was one of the biggest cowards I’d ever had the misfortune to be involved with.

The most memorable of those men had to be the man who managed his son’s boxing career. His name was “Action Jackson.” He kept asking me out and I kept saying “no.”

The man simply didn’t give up. Twice he came in while I was working at the back of the shop and on each occasion someone else offered to wait on him. Each time he told them he wanted me. The other woman in the shop, Debbie, went so far as to tell me “he was really ‘jonesing’ me.”

I was so embarrassed. My boss encouraged me to go out with him as the man had money, until he realized it was the father who wanted to date me and not the son. I finally agreed to go to breakfast with him one day and somehow it ended up being an all-day date to a local scenic area. By the end of the day, I felt like he’d managed to find all my buttons and make at least one attempt to push them. He especially couldn’t understand why I didn’t immediately trust him. I got so angry that I wanted to hit him. The reason I didn’t is that he told me that he’d rather I hit him than sit there and cry. I figured if my tears were going to make him miserable, I was going to let them flow. So I did.

I did see Action one last time at the shop. By that time I was very pregnant. He told me that he was disappointed that he wasn’t the father. As if I’d let him get that close to me.