Mr. Blue Eyes

                           and Midnight at the Oasis   

  Romeo, Romeo where for art thou?  Ever since I could remember, I was a hopeless romantic at heart.  I didn’t ask to be this way.  It is as if I was predisposed to be like this. I longed for the true passions of love, happiness and above all, to be settled inside and I desperately looked in every nook and cranny but couldn’t seem to find them. 

  My sister and I were out driving one day in my relatively brand new car and it overheated.  I ask you, what new car overheats?  We were stopped at a four-way intersection and there were three gas stations staring me in the face.  Hum, which one would I pull into?  Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Moe!  I drove into the closest one I could get to before my car blew up. 

  I pulled into one of the gas pump lanes and out from the garage walked the cutest guy I had ever laid eyes on.  I was frantic about the car and said, “Please, can you help me?  My car is almost brand new and is overheating.”  He said, “Let me take a look.”  He walked around to the front and lifted the hood.  Then he said, “Could you come here for a minute?”  I looked at my sister with a questioning expression, then opened the door, got out of the car and went to stand beside him.  He looked at me and pointed to something under the hood (as if I would understand what he was talking about).  I could hardly take my eyes off his gorgeous blue eyes to hear what he was even saying.  Who cared what was wrong with it?  He turned and pointed to the car he was working on in one of the bays.  He said, “There is my car.  It is an MG Midget.”  Was this a sign?  We both had MG’s!  I knew he wasn’t a dream but he sure looked like one.  He made an adjustment and assured me that everything would be fine.  I had no idea what his name was or if I would see him again but I was determined to find out.  As I drove out of there that night, I told my sister, “I am going to marry him.”      

 I went into work the next day.  I wasn’t performing a dance routine to “Cloud 9” I felt like I was floating on cloud nine!  Immediately, I started rambling to my co-worker (the one who had introduced me to my first blind date) about the guy at the gas station.  I didn’t know how I was going to hook up with him but the wheels were turning.  He said he would talk to his girlfriend, make some inquiries and try to discover the name of the mystery gas attendant.  

 He came into work the next day startling me with some information.  He did talk to his girlfriend the night before about what had happened to me.  He continued, “You are not going to believe this.”  His girlfriend proceeded to tell him that her sister had come home that very night saying her boyfriend’s brother had met a girl at the gas station where he worked and she drove an orange MGB.  What are the chances of that?  

  After some networking, phone numbers were exchanged and he called me several days later.  It really, for the first time in a long time, felt right.  It didn’t feel “conjured up” just for the sake of being with someone.  

  Mr. Blue Eyes was six months younger than I was, just like my high school sweetheart.  Do,do,do,do.  He was not only handsome, but he was funny.  He was also very cool.  Our first date was heavenly.  I made a point of buying a new outfit for the date; I wanted to look extra special.  He asked me to go dinner and the movies. 

 We went to a Chinese restaurant (I loved Chinese food) and he asked me if I wanted a drink.  I told him I would love one but I was underage.  He said, “Don’t worry, they will serve us.”  So nervously, I ordered a Singapore Sling and much to my amazement, the waitress appeared with them on her tray several minutes later.  I had discovered a long time ago that drinking helped calm me down, giving me “liquid courage.”  It wasn’t as good as green nerve medicine (and had a lot more calories!) but it was a close second.  I was so nervous that night my hands were shaking, but with each passing sip, my inhibitions melted right away. 

 I ordered a dish but I didn’t like eating in front of others so I got a doggie bag to go.  Besides, I didn’t have my toothbrush with me and all I could imagine was food being caught in-between my teeth.  I was not going to ruin my perfect facade.

  We headed for the movie theater to see Blazing Saddles.  I don’t think I had ever seen anyone pass gas on a movie screen prior to seeing this movie.  It reminded me of when I had a date in the ninth grade and we were watching TV and a commercial came on about Kotex Feminine pads.  I was humiliated then and I was humiliated now.  Thank goodness, it was dark in the theater. 

 I leaned over at one point and tried to kiss him but clearly, he was not interested.  It made me feel rejected.  I equated physical affection with approval and had become very forward.  He said, “Not here.”  After the movie, we ended up at his best friend’s house and he kissed me for the first time in the front yard under a big oak tree.  I was in love. 

 I decided I was not going to tell him about my past.  What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  I wasn’t gonna spill the beans and ruin my chances at true love.    

 I was unaware of the fact that he had been seeing a girl who was away at college.  After our first two dates, he said he had to take care of some business before we went out again.  He proceeded to tell me there was another girl and I felt jealous that he would be in contact with her, but he was adamant that this was the right thing to do.  I was nervous about the trip he would make, wondering if she would try to hold on to him, but his mind was make up, so I tried to be mature (right!) and be understanding.  He went the following weekend to breakup with her.  Yes, there were tears but he was clear to her that he didn’t love her.  After that, we were stuck like glue.  My whole family liked him, too.  They remarked that he reminded them of my dad.  He seemed to know everyone in town and he was well liked. 

 I was at his house or he was at mine.  We both thought we were in love.  Physically, things remained light for a while and I kept my guard up and then, of course, sex became the issue, as it always had.  I knew we were headed for intercourse.  I lied to him and told him I was a virgin.  I only meant to have sex with him one time, knowing we would be married some day but that didn’t last for long.  Sex continued.  I had stopped taking birth control because I hadn’t needed it for a long while.  My thinking was, “Why take birth control if I am not going to have sex?”  I didn’t like the way it made me feel and I started to gain weight each time I took it and I didn’t like that side effect.  I became pregnant for the third time. 

  I could truly see us being married with a baby.  I had it all figured out in my mind that my dad could help us and we would tie the knot.  I would finally get married.  I just knew we would be in a married, blissful state.  Wrong!  For a brief moment in time, he did entertain the thought of marrying me.  I had tried and tried over and over to convince him that this was the thing to do.  He never said much at those times.  We told my family.  My dad said he was going to marry me under no uncertain terms.  His family said something different.  Unbeknownst to me, he went to see my dad and told him he was not going to marry me.  My dad called to tell me and it was as if someone had taken a dagger and thrust it through my heart.  No marriage, no husband and once again, there was not going to be a baby.  Let’s see, how many now?  This would be abortion number three.   

 I was not going to have this taken care of at a cattle clinic this time, being made to feel like I was some kind of slut.  This time I did it the high collar way and I went to a Physician’s office.  A check was dropped off in the mail slot of our home with the intention that we were never to see one another again.  My heart was broken.  I went to the office with my mother and she was there for support but I know she was thoroughly put out with me again.  After the abortion was performed, I watched the doctor intently as he stood at his sink examining the fetus.  Without a doubt, just know he had determined the sex of the aborted baby.  I never said a word and he never commented.  My mother took care of me afterward but didn’t say much about the whole affair.

  Messages started going back and forth between our common friends and gradually we started sneaking around, seeing one another.  Several months passed and we slipped right back into hot and steamy sex…..behind the backs of everyone.   

            Now, as all of this was occupying my thoughts, I went from the bank job, to contemplating the notion of going to school.  I thought well maybe I would go to school and become a dental hygienist.  My boyfriend was going away to school, so that made me think I wanted to go to school, but my way in life seemed to be blocked.   

 I convinced my dad I wanted to go to school.  My dad said if I did that, I would have to sell my MGB because he wouldn’t make the payments on it while I went to school.  So, I cleaned up “the car” and it sold immediately.  I had to have some sort of transportation, so I bought a brand new VW, got a part-time job, and enrolled in a local college.  My dad said if I did well enough to graduate, he would send me away to a four-year school to complete my studies. 

 College life only lasted for a semester and a half.  My boyfriend was away at school and I missed him horribly.  I hated school, I hated my life and I felt lonely.  I continued to harbor deep, dark, unexplainable “things” inside of me that pulled me down into an unbearable pit.  I ended up quitting school feeling defeated.

             I was at a six-month dental check-up and started to pour my heart out to my dentist regarding school and my life.  He said, “Why don’t you come and work for me?”  I will train you and pay you at the same time.  Sounds good to me!  I felt that perhaps this could turn out to be something good and be a turning point for me.

  I went and purchased the required attire and began in the dental field working four days a week.  The dentist who had seemed so kind, caring and friendly was one of the hardest people to work for I had ever encountered.  From the moment I began to work there, things were different.  I couldn’t seem to do enough and was clearly getting on his nerves.  He was short-tempered in the office and wasn’t at all what he appeared to be.  My family loved him and looked forward to their dental visits.  They could hardly believe what I was saying as I would recount my workday to them.  It was as if he was a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  He would yell around the office.  He even yelled at me in front of several patients, sending me to the lab in tears.  I asked one of the girls one day about his temper and she just shrugged her shoulders and wouldn’t talk about it.  After work one day, I caught him lounging in the dental chair getting tanked up on laughing gas.  I was getting ready to go home and he called me in and apologized to me for being mean.  I knew I did not like this man and after three months, I left.  It was job-hunting time again!

             I answered an ad in the paper and managed to get another job working for a dentist who specialized in root canals.  He was an older man, funny and I came to really like him.  He was laid back and he let me do my job.  The drawback to this position was that I only made $75.00 a week.  After three months of working there, he said that I was such a good worker that he gave me a $5.00 a week raise!  Thank goodness, I lived at home. 

  My lower stomach started to ache quite often.  I didn’t miss any work but had told the secretary what was going on.  She suggested I go next door to the OBGYN, who was very well regarded in the community.  I really didn’t want anyone knowing about my past abortions due to possible judgment, but I strongly felt the need, for safety’s sake, to be examined by a specialist.  I reluctantly called and made an appointment.

 I was young, good-looking and he seemed to be a nice, hip medical doctor.  I went to him once and really liked his manner.  But, then his nurse called me back for a reexamination.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Not being a doctor, what did know?  Maybe he had missed doing something he needed and had to see me again.  The second time I went to see him was much different.  The nurse took me into a room, had me undress and put on a robe.  He walked in with the nurse and then dismissed her, saying he no longer needed her services.  To me, doctors were like gods, so I didn’t give any credence to what he said. 

 When the nurse left the room, I started to feel rather funny about this and got flushed.  He asked me to stand up, disrobe and turn slowly around so he could examine me.  I was stark naked!  I did as he requested.  After what seemed to be an eternity, he got up to leave and told me to get dressed.  I was kind of stunned.  I walked to the reception desk to take care of my visit.  Out of professional courtesy, I was told I would not be charged as I worked next door.  That day, as I turned to leave, I thought I was going to vomit.  Something had just happened that was not the norm for a doctor.  I knew if I went back one more time, he would have molested me.  He sent word by one of the nurses that he wanted me to come and work for him.  As soon as I heard what she said, I knew it was for more than work.  I felt sick inside and very violated.  No one would have believed me if I had reported him to the medical board, so I dropped it.  I was not one to “stir the pot,” so to speak, so I chalked it up to my ignorance and kept going and told no one but my boyfriend.  I saw the doctor one other time when he was going into his office.  I gave him a frozen stare, acknowledging I knew he was up to no good and never laid eyes on him again.                    

  I felt lost, knowing I had to work and earn more than $78.00 a week but had no clue as to what to do.  Marvin Gaye’s song, “What’s Going On” sure fit my life.  Forget the world at large!  What was wrong with me?  By this time, I had already had six jobs, and gone to school and quit.  I already had three proposals of marriage under my belt and was after the fourth.  I had had three abortions, had sex with six different guys and was getting tired of it all and I was not even twenty years old yet.  

 I worked a few more odd jobs and then it all started coming to a head.  My boyfriend’s dad had been talking to me about the savings and loan industry.  He said I should try to get on at one of them.  I didn’t even know what a savings and loan was.  I bought a paper and started to look for my next job.  Sure enough, there was and ad offering a job for a teller in a savings and loan, so I called and was given an interview.  Another completely new era of my life was beginning.  The best part to this new job was that I was going to get to ditch my everyday uniforms and buy new, professional work clothes.  My mom, as usual, came to my financial rescue.   

  I had become very heavy.  I had my hair all cut off, wearing it in an Afro style.  A Star Is Born hit the theaters and was all the rage.  I always seemed to copy what was the current trend in fashion.  I had gotten up to 200 lbs., though and the hairdo was not becoming.  I was very unhappy inside and my outward appearance showed it.  I just kept going.  Somehow, I was always hopeful that things would get better.    

  My boyfriend had quit school because he had missed me and had come home.  It seemed that for months now, our routine was he and I traveling between our two houses, watching TV and eating.  We were in a dreadful rut.

 Tent dresses, well, I loved them!  I had been wearing tent dresses in my off time from work.  They were comfy to me.  I could “let it all hang out” without being convicted by the clothes I wore that I needed to do something about my weight.  If I didn’t feel the tight pants or see the bulges, then “it” (the fat) didn’t exist in my mind. 

 He came to pick me up one Saturday and we went to a local hamburger joint for lunch.  We ordered our food and I sat down with my Big Mac, large fry and large chocolate shake.  I unwrapped my meal very carefully.  I saw, in my mind’s eye, saliva drooling out of the corner of my mouth, as I got ready to embark on a food fantasy.  All of a sudden, my boyfriend looked at me and barked, “When are you going to lose some of that weight?”  I remained calm, which was unusual for me.  I held my tongue and slowly, calmly wrapped it all back up, headed for the trashcan and said, “Take me home.”  Our three-year long “love affair” was over.  I was devastated, yet in a sort of weird way, relieved.  Something had to give.  He took me home without much fanfare.  We drove up to my home and I got out of the car, slammed the door and went inside.  We had claimed “Midnight at the Oasis” as our song but he was no longer my Sheik!   

  I didn’t shed one tear as I shut the door behind me.  Minutes later, a thought popped into my head, “You’re fat and no one is going to want you like this.”  Hello, diet time has arrived.