The More the Merrier (Drinks)

                         and “Do You Take This Woman, Finally?”

     I weighed 117 pounds now, some of which had just fallen off from lack of eating.  My childhood friend (the one who drove me to David’s funeral) who was living in Richmond was having a party and he thought it would be a good idea for me to come.  I was feeling it was time to get on with my life and stop being the grieving girlfriend/widow, so I accepted the invitation.  I got there and proceeded to drown my sorrows becoming blind drunk.  I had to go to work the next day and I knew I wasn’t in any shape to drive, but “Miss Hardhead” wouldn’t listen to anyone.  Once again, I had convinced everyone I was okay to drive home.  I wasn’t 500 yards down the road when I ended up actually blacking out, having a wreck, and tearing down the fence surrounding someone’s yard.  I got scared, jumped out of the car and somehow ran back to the party.  I told everyone there what had happened and they immediately took off to the scene, coming to my rescue.  Someone grabbed their keys and drove me home.  The ones who were left behind contacted the police and “cleaned up” the dirty mess I had created.  At the time, I happened to have my car insurance through my old boyfriend’s parents, so I called them from work the next day to find out what I needed to do.  Of course, she ended up telling her son she had spoken to me on the phone.  You will never guess who showed up at my front door.  You know it, Mr. two all beef patties himself!  He stood there saying he had bought me a t-shirt when he went to the beach.  Of course, I could tell he liked the way I looked but he always did when I was thin.  I gave him the cold shoulder, said a polite thank you for the shirt and closed the door.  Was this the same person who had ditched me a few months earlier?  My true love was dead so what difference did it make about anything? 

My childhood friend told me of another big party he was going to and asked me if I wanted to go.  I told him I would go and off we went across town to another party.   Once there, I kept drinking until I was wasted again.  I danced and danced the night away.  I would get all dolled up, go out, get drunk and make an ass of myself.  I flat out did not care what happened to me.  The party was beginning to wind down and I had lost track of my friend.  I went to the front of the place, hoping he would be looking for me as well, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.  I found some steps to sit on (fall down on) and started to cry.  Someone came from out of nowhere and asked me if I needed help.  From what I could discern, he sounded as if he had a British accent.  I did not know this person but he was nice and had good manners.  I literally couldn’t see to go anywhere so I had no choice but to trust him.  He led me to his apartment as I stumbled along the path.  For an instant I became scared and blurted out that my boyfriend’s mother (I didn’t have any boyfriend) was waiting up for me.  I told him she was expecting me to call any moment now.  Well, he called my bluff and said I could use his phone.  I slowly dialed the number to my ex-boyfriend’s mother at two in the morning, knowing this could be the only lifeline (if he was a murderer) I might get.  She seemed startled to hear from me, yet she was nice and said if I could get there, I could come and crash on her sofa.  I couldn’t call my mom because she would have killed me.  I tried to keep as much as possible from her since she was dealing with so many things in her own life.  Besides, I thought I was a big girl now.  I hung up the phone and the man asked me if she was going to come and get me.  I thought, are you kidding me?  I made up the whole story about her expecting me to call and on top of that, I haven’t seen her in months!  He asked, “Do you need me to take you there?”  I couldn’t believe he asked me if I needed a ride.  It was a thirty-five minute trek to my side of town and again, I had gotten myself into a horrible mess and had no choice but to let this stranger help me. 

            He was very cordial to me on the way home from what I remember because I dozed in and out of consciousness the entire ride to my ex-boyfriend’s house.  I ended up getting there in one piece and I as stepped out of his car, I thanked him profusely for his help.  Well, I gushed as a matter of fact.

            So, I landed at my old boyfriend’s house, sleeping on his parents’ couch!  He actually was the one who woke me up, and we ended up getting back together that night. 

There was a customer at the bank where I worked who was rich, cute, drove a vet, had a plane, and he and I had always flirted with one another.  He was just a neat guy. During the last several months, he had invited me over to his house for a drink but I never bit the apple.  However, for some reason one night after work, I eventually took him up on the offer.  I lied to my on again ex-boyfriend about having to stay late for a meeting.  I just didn’t know about anything anymore and I was on a roller coaster that I was not able to get a handle on.  I was justifying this interaction by telling myself I had to make certain my old boyfriend was really “the one.” 

             My life was empty.  My heart was broken.  I felt I was going nowhere.  I wasn’t really in love with my old boyfriend anymore.  The feeling I had was more, “I got you to crawl back to me and bow down before me.  Now the thrill is gone.”  But he was the closest thing, in my mind, to David.  I so desperately wanted the stability of being married, and above all, being happy.  Was he the one who would actually make it happen for me?

            I knew I had to make a choice.  Frankly, I didn’t have the energy or the stamina for a brand new relationship.  I did not want to have to rehash all the things someone wants to know about you, from childhood on up.  My childhood friend said he got tired of telling girls the same ‘ole things about his life so he just started making stuff up to make it more interesting for himself.  I wasn’t into that.  I was into many things, but not that; that was lying.  

             The liaison with the bank customer lasted about three and a half weeks.  I didn’t once mention that I had a boyfriend.  They lived on opposite sides of town and chances were they would never run into one another, so I thought I was safe.  The bank customer had gone out of town for a business trip but upon arriving home, immediately drove to my home.  We got in his car and on the way to his house, he stated that while he was away, he couldn’t get me off his mind and he wanted me to move in with him.  He said he would give me anything I wanted.  I could quit my job and live with him.  The whole idea of it seemed scary to me.  The ache started to come back in my stomach.  I had the thrill of getting the guy at the bank that the other girls couldn’t.  I proved I could get him.  I was really just done with the whole thing, knowing I was wrong for seeing him in the first place.  I made my choice… so I threw myself into the relationship with my old boyfriend one hundred percent.  

            Ho, Ho, Ho!  Christmas was on the way and love was in the air.  From the way my boyfriend talked to my mom and sister, he was going to ask me to marry him and give me a diamond for Christmas.  He made a really big deal out of it.  Everyone in my family seemed to be excited and it made me excited.  He had already been accepted back into my family in full measure, as I with his.  No one brought up the past and I was finally going to get what I had always wanted. 

              Christmas Eve finally came and there was magic in the air.  He had prearranged a big open the present occasion at his parents’ house in front of all his family and extended relatives.  What else could it be but a proposal of marriage?  I was scared, elated and shaking from anticipation.  This was going to be it for me.  I sat there and carefully unwrapped the present.  I looked at the box and thought it was oddly shaped to have a ring inside.  I then opened the lid and there it was.  I was stunned.  I couldn’t speak.  It was a diamond all right, but it was a diamond necklace!  The look on my face, I am sure, was pure, overwhelmed shock.  I could just imagine myself with egg on my face.  They were all waiting with baited breath to see my reaction.  I am certain it was not the reaction they were expecting.  But I wanted my way, once again, and I was not getting it.  I wanted a diamond ring.  I couldn’t believe it wasn’t a ring.  I sat there for a moment as if dead.  To him the necklace meant he was committed to me.  It was a big step for him, considering that a few short years earlier; he told my dad he would not marry his pregnant daughter!  He was giving it as a token of his commitment to me but I took it as a slap in the face.  I cannot even imagine what his family was thinking of my reaction.  They had wanted him to wait until he was twenty-seven before getting married anyway.  Well, I knew I was not going to wait another four years to get married to him.  I composed myself and pretended I was thrilled.  I believe they took the shock on my face to be elation but that was not the case.  It took me a couple of days to calm down over it.  I had to have several talks at the kitchen table with my mom over what happened, but finally, I came to realize that this diamond necklace was his way of saying he did love me and wanted to marry me.  So, I bit my lip, smiled and pretended it was okay with me.

            The following spring, we were officially engaged.  This, of course, was after much discussion and arguing, mind you.  The big night came.  He planned a big “pop the question” evening with champagne and candlelight.  He gave me the first ring his dad had given his mother.  There was a condition issued to me that night concerning this ring, however.  If anything ever happened to us, the ring was to be returned to his mother.  Well, it was pretty but I felt like I was engaged to his father.  It was as if I was getting second best.  It was weird but I got what I wanted.

              Arrangements were made and he bought a townhouse for us to live in prior to our wedding.  The understanding was he would live there with his best friend for six months so they could have one more fling at “single life and being boys.”  Whatever! I was getting married, finally!!! 

             Wedded bliss was what I thought was going to finally make me whole and happy.  I had imagined getting married since pretending to marry my boyfriend in the first grade, and having his dad’s high school ring as my wedding band.  I had imagined being in love since I had been a child listening to The Platters Greatest Hits.  This was what I had always wanted.  I imagined showing up at the front door of our townhouse in my negligee, high heels, and drink in hand, meeting my husband after a hard day’s work just like the women did in the movies.  There was much to do to prepare and I was all about it. 

            I had just been promoted to branch manager at the bank.  I had managed to keep my job at the bank, which in itself, I thought, was a miracle.  I had made strides in my personal convictions of trying to have a good work ethic and had come out the winner.  I think I had more sick time on my record in the beginning than anyone, but when I was there, I was a hard worker.

            I had just won the Central Virginia Speech Contest judged by Professors from the University of Richmond.  I took home first prize of $100.00, much to my amazement.  No one from my institution (bank, not mental!) had won this event in eleven years.  It was made clear that the president of the bank wanted the title and I brought it to him. 

             Everyone who entered the competition was expected to write a speech, tying it to saving money.  I knew I couldn’t write such a speech, but I knew I could deliver one.  I called upon my brother who was the big writer of the family.  I talked him into writing a speech for me promising him half the winnings if I was declared the winner.  The day came and we went down in town to hold the contest.  There were ten contestants.  I was dressed in my all white “John Travolta” jacket and skirt, had on an aqua blouse and white high heels.  My nerves were so “nervous,” I tanked up on two and a half Valiums (5mg. each) prior to giving my speech.  My heart was racing as I hit the podium.  The name of my speech was Acute Pecuniary Spenditis!  The thought process being how you couldn’t save money because you had to keep buying something else to match what you already had.  People laughed in all the right places and a cheer went up at the end.  The decision was in.  I won!  I was thrilled.  I couldn’t believe it.    

            I was called to the main office to deliver this award-winning speech to the Board of Directors.  The promotion (Branch Manager) came right after I won the speech contest.  The victory of the promotion and the contest kept me doing that job better.  Nothing like a big ole’ carrot to make the energizer bunny go further!  The icing on the cake was that most of the board members were friends with my soon to be father-in-law.  All the right components were set in place for me to have complete success in my life.  It appeared to everyone that I was on the way up finally, but nothing could have been further from the truth.  There was a tug of war going on inside of me that was becoming harder to keep under control.  I felt both good and evil continually struggle within me, so much so, that I couldn’t let anyone know.  I was scared to reveal my inner self to anyone (even family) for fear of what would come forth.  People had started to hold me in high regard and it felt good to be looked upon with respect and accomplishment.  I believed I could just BS my way through this life and somehow the icky, dark feelings would eventually go away.  The mask I wore became more cemented on the longer I lived inside my own personal hell.  My thought was “just keep going” and you’ll get clear of this.

            The Presbyterian Church we attended sporadically was cold and had metal chairs.  I certainly could not picture myself getting married there.  We discussed it and decided to get married in an Episcopal Church.  My soon-to-be husband had sung in the All Saints Boys choir there when he was little, so there would be no charge and the church itself was majestic.  It truly looked like it was out of a movie.  Now, that was me! 

            I picked my dress out of a magazine.  I knew what I liked and when I saw this dress, nothing else would do.  I went to Tiffany’s in Richmond to buy it.  My dad ended up paying for most everything but not without a lot of arguing and fussing.  It was always about the money and his desire to have it all.  Anyway, he ended up paying for it because many of our relatives were coming and he couldn’t look like a miser, losing face in front of them.  Heaven forbid!  He always had to appear to everyone that he had done the right thing, the right way and had always taken care of his children, even though it never came easily for us.

            We had a huge reception that included an ice carving with shrimp, two bars and a combo played as well.  Still, to this day, there are people who say it is the best wedding reception they ever attended.  I didn’t eat anything at the reception due to excitement and not wanting to “pig out” in front of others, but believe me, I drank.  Finally, when I slipped in the kitchen area falling down in my pretty white suit, someone suggested it was time I went on my honeymoon.  I turned around to find my dad.  I wanted to thank my dad for the expense he went to for my wedding and for everything else he had done.  I looked at him with all the love I had in my heart wanting to thank him and he said, “You don’t have to say a thing.”  So, that was it.  There was no more said between us about the wedding.  I hugged and kissed him goodbye and we were off.  I was married!!

            We left the reception and stopped at McDonald’s to eat.  We stayed in the honeymoon suite at the hotel where my husband was working and were to leave the next morning for Disney World.  I had always wanted to go there.  It was the whole “out of reality” thing for me.  Pretend… Cinderella.  We drove because I was too scared to fly.  What a trip.  We smoked dope on the way and took silly pictures of ourselves.  I had managed to weasel out of having sex on our actual wedding night because I was so drunk.  I had convinced my husband that we would have our honeymoon night when we got to Disney World.  I mean, come on, we had already been having sex for years and I had already had one abortion with him.  But, I managed to put him off until Florida.  I figured I could rise to the occasion by then.   

            After the sixteen-hour trip, I was faced with the honeymoon night.  I can tell you for a fact, I was just not into it.  My stomach ached and I dreaded thoughts of having sex with him all the way there.  I found myself trying to talk my way out of it once we arrived.  It was awful.  He got upset but I really didn’t care.  I just wasn’t into it.  All of a sudden, I found myself on my honeymoon, the honeymoon I had waited for all of my life, and I thought to myself, this is what you wanted.  I could have done without sex altogether.  Although, sometimes I did want sex but just not with him.  Something was dreadfully wrong and I didn’t know what it was.  I just wanted to be married, safe and settled.  I wanted a normal life.  I wanted a happy life and deep inside I knew I wasn’t happy.