Once I promised to chat about my ex....
I decided to do it now. Before I do, let me tell you that he and I are very good friends and he is the father of my children. We were extremely young when we were married and we both did some stupid things. I am telling you this story for completely different reasons then I told you about Rick. It is simply for the entertainment value, nothing else. This all happened in the ‘70’s and I don’t think that even he would mind me telling you.
I made a reference to the night that I met him in the post about songs. One night, back in disco days, I was out dancing with a gay friend of mine. I didn’t have a boyfriend and my friend liked to dance so we did that often. We were very good and we really enjoyed it. One night we went to a place that had a band. I had put money in the jukebox and one of the songs I played was Love is in the Air. Jimmy and I had a great dance that we did to that song and I wanted to do it. When the band played, the jukebox stopped and there were so many songs ahead of mine that my song didn’t come on for a very long time. By the time it did, Jimmy was all danced out and didn’t want to dance anymore. I was annoyed so I went to pout at the bar.
While I was sitting there, this guy came up to me and asked if there was anyone sitting next to me. I looked at the empty bar stools on either side and said, “Yes, my invisible friends Bert and Ernie.” Then he asked if I needed another drink. I picked up my full Apricot Stone Sour and said, “Yeah, I'm ready for another one.” I was in already in a bad mood and I am never terribly nice to men who approach me in a bar instead of sending a drink over and giving me the option of approaching them. Anyway I was being a real bitch. We both smoked at the time and he asked if I needed cigarettes. I opened my full pack and said, “Sure, buy me more.” He did and then he sat next to me. I started to feel a little guilty so I spoke to him and he turned out to be a very nice guy.
That night he was dressed in a red satin shirt and high waisted black polyester slacks. He was also wearing shoes with platforms to make himself appear a bit taller. His shirt was unbuttoned well below his nipples and he was wearing a lot of gold necklaces. God, I wish I had a picture of him from that night. He used to tell me that women compared him to John Travolta. He never said they did it in a polite way. I never saw it. He was Italian (still is) and he was nice looking, but he was no Travolta.
At some point he offered to drive me home. I had come with Jimmy and I wanted my own car so I let him drive me home. Before I got out of the car, he kissed me. After a minute or so of the kissing, he asked me if he could put his hand on my breast. (I was fully clothed.) I laughed (couldn’t help myself) and said, “Well, if you would have just put it there, I might not have moved it. But, since you asked, I have to say no.” He smiled and I got out of his car, jumped right into mine and went out to dance some more.
We eventually became close and were married. (He wasn’t the Reno guy, my father ended that one almost immediately.) Now, remember, we were very young and I like him so this isn’t to be mean, it is just something that happened to me that I find funny today.
He cheated too...it never bothered me as much as Rick’s cheating has. But anyway, he did. One day he came home from work with a hickey. When I asked him how he got it, he had 3 different explanations. The difference between him and Rick is that Mark’s heart wasn’t in it, he wasn’t a bad person deep down and was not at all a good liar. Rick would stick to his original story if it meant death to his home state of Montana. Mark wasn’t so good, he changed his story often.
First he told me that he was burned at work. I mentioned that it would be raised and not flat if it had been burned so hideously (he was burned by hot grease splashing all over him).
His next story went something like this, “We were in the parking lot playing football and this guy put a mean spin on the ball. It hit me in the neck.”
Once again I pointed out the flaws in his story.
Then he said something that he often said when he was lying:
“Well, I didn’t think you would believe the REAL story.”
“Try me, Mark.”
“You’d have a hickey on your neck too, if someone pinched it and twisted it for a long time!”
OK. So muy mucho macho machacho Marco let some guy grab him by the neck skin and hold on to it long enough to deliver one massive purple hickey. Whatever.
One night he wanted to go out. Knowing what he was up to, I had a plan. My sisters were at my house that evevning and he was putting on his “Mark’s Night Out Clothing”. I told him that it hurt too much for me to watch him get ready to go out so I wanted to go to the corner restaurant until he was gone My sisters could watch the kids. All he cared about was an easy escape so he didn’t mind, nor did he question why I would do that.
I had no intentions of going to the restaurant. Instead, I went to the car, climbed into the backseat and removed the light bulb from the ceiling light. Then I curled up on the floorboard. When he got in the car a few minutes later, he tapped on the light to see if it would go on. It didn’t and he didn’t care. I stayed in my hiding place as he drove. Then, he stopped the car and got out. He never knew I was there. As I peeked out, I saw him walking up to a house. I watched as he knocked on the door. His date opened the door and then they headed down the walkway to the sidewalk. Right then, I climbed over the seat and drove away, waving back to them. He couldn’t call the police, it was my car too. I still don’t know how he explained that to the girl.
One time, as I was doing laundry, I found a receipt from a motel. I remember it was dated June 6th, 1980. I didn’t say a word. I waited until dinner. I was at one end of the table feeding my daughter in the high chair when I called him into dinner. He grabbed the mashed potatoes with one hand and then scooped a big spoonful out with the other. Then he froze in that position. He noticed that the motel receipt was on his plate.
Would you believe he actually got mad at ME because I wasn’t angry? All I could do was laugh. As I said, we are friends now and I don’t think anyone can hold him responsible for things he did when he was so young. I’m not making excuses for him, he WAS wrong. But it was so long ago that nobody cares anymore. I do have more Mark stories and will occasionally tell you about them. Most of the stories are not at all bad...they are just funny. Well, I have a baby to watch this evening so I am going to get ready for her. Have a nice night!
Meg
I decided to do it now. Before I do, let me tell you that he and I are very good friends and he is the father of my children. We were extremely young when we were married and we both did some stupid things. I am telling you this story for completely different reasons then I told you about Rick. It is simply for the entertainment value, nothing else. This all happened in the ‘70’s and I don’t think that even he would mind me telling you.
I made a reference to the night that I met him in the post about songs. One night, back in disco days, I was out dancing with a gay friend of mine. I didn’t have a boyfriend and my friend liked to dance so we did that often. We were very good and we really enjoyed it. One night we went to a place that had a band. I had put money in the jukebox and one of the songs I played was Love is in the Air. Jimmy and I had a great dance that we did to that song and I wanted to do it. When the band played, the jukebox stopped and there were so many songs ahead of mine that my song didn’t come on for a very long time. By the time it did, Jimmy was all danced out and didn’t want to dance anymore. I was annoyed so I went to pout at the bar.
While I was sitting there, this guy came up to me and asked if there was anyone sitting next to me. I looked at the empty bar stools on either side and said, “Yes, my invisible friends Bert and Ernie.” Then he asked if I needed another drink. I picked up my full Apricot Stone Sour and said, “Yeah, I'm ready for another one.” I was in already in a bad mood and I am never terribly nice to men who approach me in a bar instead of sending a drink over and giving me the option of approaching them. Anyway I was being a real bitch. We both smoked at the time and he asked if I needed cigarettes. I opened my full pack and said, “Sure, buy me more.” He did and then he sat next to me. I started to feel a little guilty so I spoke to him and he turned out to be a very nice guy.
That night he was dressed in a red satin shirt and high waisted black polyester slacks. He was also wearing shoes with platforms to make himself appear a bit taller. His shirt was unbuttoned well below his nipples and he was wearing a lot of gold necklaces. God, I wish I had a picture of him from that night. He used to tell me that women compared him to John Travolta. He never said they did it in a polite way. I never saw it. He was Italian (still is) and he was nice looking, but he was no Travolta.
At some point he offered to drive me home. I had come with Jimmy and I wanted my own car so I let him drive me home. Before I got out of the car, he kissed me. After a minute or so of the kissing, he asked me if he could put his hand on my breast. (I was fully clothed.) I laughed (couldn’t help myself) and said, “Well, if you would have just put it there, I might not have moved it. But, since you asked, I have to say no.” He smiled and I got out of his car, jumped right into mine and went out to dance some more.
We eventually became close and were married. (He wasn’t the Reno guy, my father ended that one almost immediately.) Now, remember, we were very young and I like him so this isn’t to be mean, it is just something that happened to me that I find funny today.
He cheated too...it never bothered me as much as Rick’s cheating has. But anyway, he did. One day he came home from work with a hickey. When I asked him how he got it, he had 3 different explanations. The difference between him and Rick is that Mark’s heart wasn’t in it, he wasn’t a bad person deep down and was not at all a good liar. Rick would stick to his original story if it meant death to his home state of Montana. Mark wasn’t so good, he changed his story often.
First he told me that he was burned at work. I mentioned that it would be raised and not flat if it had been burned so hideously (he was burned by hot grease splashing all over him).
His next story went something like this, “We were in the parking lot playing football and this guy put a mean spin on the ball. It hit me in the neck.”
Once again I pointed out the flaws in his story.
Then he said something that he often said when he was lying:
“Well, I didn’t think you would believe the REAL story.”
“Try me, Mark.”
“You’d have a hickey on your neck too, if someone pinched it and twisted it for a long time!”
OK. So muy mucho macho machacho Marco let some guy grab him by the neck skin and hold on to it long enough to deliver one massive purple hickey. Whatever.
One night he wanted to go out. Knowing what he was up to, I had a plan. My sisters were at my house that evevning and he was putting on his “Mark’s Night Out Clothing”. I told him that it hurt too much for me to watch him get ready to go out so I wanted to go to the corner restaurant until he was gone My sisters could watch the kids. All he cared about was an easy escape so he didn’t mind, nor did he question why I would do that.
I had no intentions of going to the restaurant. Instead, I went to the car, climbed into the backseat and removed the light bulb from the ceiling light. Then I curled up on the floorboard. When he got in the car a few minutes later, he tapped on the light to see if it would go on. It didn’t and he didn’t care. I stayed in my hiding place as he drove. Then, he stopped the car and got out. He never knew I was there. As I peeked out, I saw him walking up to a house. I watched as he knocked on the door. His date opened the door and then they headed down the walkway to the sidewalk. Right then, I climbed over the seat and drove away, waving back to them. He couldn’t call the police, it was my car too. I still don’t know how he explained that to the girl.
One time, as I was doing laundry, I found a receipt from a motel. I remember it was dated June 6th, 1980. I didn’t say a word. I waited until dinner. I was at one end of the table feeding my daughter in the high chair when I called him into dinner. He grabbed the mashed potatoes with one hand and then scooped a big spoonful out with the other. Then he froze in that position. He noticed that the motel receipt was on his plate.
Would you believe he actually got mad at ME because I wasn’t angry? All I could do was laugh. As I said, we are friends now and I don’t think anyone can hold him responsible for things he did when he was so young. I’m not making excuses for him, he WAS wrong. But it was so long ago that nobody cares anymore. I do have more Mark stories and will occasionally tell you about them. Most of the stories are not at all bad...they are just funny. Well, I have a baby to watch this evening so I am going to get ready for her. Have a nice night!
Meg
posted by Meg Kelso | 6:57 PM
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