During port calls on the second cruise I wasted no time in resuming my lecherous behavior and getting trashed every time I was off the ship. Definitely not the actions you’d expect from someone engaged, and I don’t recall feelings of remorse. I do recall that I wondered if El was beginning to have second thoughts, since letters were few and far between. Naturally my shipmates took great glee in offering advice; e.g., she already found someone else, she never loved you anyway, etc. How would they know? They wouldn’t, but it was sufficient to sow the seeds of doubt.
On this cruise I was no longer a “hole snipe” since my recent school got me transferred to the ships oxygen plants; I was now a “fresh-air snipe.” The assignment change put me with a different group of folks and put me in charge of my own personal space on the ship. This afforded me (and mates) a new level of privacy on a ship with 5000+ sailors. This also afforded an opportunity for rampant masturbation, both by myself and my new friends. We’d gather together in the compressor room with our porn mag of choice and then have races to see who could ‘get there’ first.
Upon return to the US I had another bout of feeling that El no longer wanted to get married, and (I guess) sufficient time and ‘events’ had transpired that I was ambivalent about the whole thing too. Why? El was very late in picking me up; at least an hour, maybe more. Certainly sufficient time for ‘buddies’ to notice and make a cat-call or two. I can’t remember why she was late nor do I remember the discussion after she arrived; I do recall she was sorry and it was off to Tallahassee for marriage preps.
Marital arrangements were a whirlwind with rehearsals, meeting the catholic priest, bachelor’s party, etc., since I had limited time for the ceremony and honeymoon. I was rapidly approaching the point of let’s just elope and skip all of the craziness; nothing new with me and impatience. The priest counseling visit centered around me “not being of the faith” and me assuring him that I support raising the kids in a religious environment. The only thing I remember about the bachelor’s party is passing out on the floorboard of a Volkswagen bug.
The big day came and went; we spent a few days at Disney for the honeymoon, courtesy of El’s aunt. Somewhere in there we flew to Colorado to get my car, drive back to Florida to get a U-Haul to load up with El’s stuff, and then it was off to Virginia ’cause the ship was going through some shipyard maintenance. Virginia was depressing. Grey skies and rainy. El was going through some serious family deprivation issues, and packed on some poundage. I’d like to hope I was sensitive to her issues, but I don’t remember. Common theme – lack of remembrance; killed a few thousand brain cells on a nightly basis with fire water.
Following the 3 month fix-it job it was time to load up and return to Florida where we got an apartment in Neptune Beach. I don’t recall any memorable up/happy or down/sad times. We had the one vehicle so she took me to work and picked me up. Picked me up one day and I couldn’t recognize her because her face was so swollen; she had gone to the beach that day and fallen asleep in the sun – she was hurting for awhile.
It wasn’t long until it was time to make another deployment and since we were supposed to arrive back to the states within a month of my enlistment ending I applied to get out on arrival. The 3rd cruise was just like the other two. Back to the Med and back to getting waxed and chasing whores. I think I may have made it past one port before I succumbed to my carnal desires. I still did not use any type of protection and did not stop until it was the last foreign port we visited. The only difference this time, was that I brought a couple pair of El’s dirty undies for keepsakes; yep…I wasn’t playing with a full deck.
Looking back….I just shake my head now and wonder; trying to fathom how I could do what I had done – again & again. Getting off the ship and I looked her straight in the face and told her how much I loved and missed her.
Guilt and shame are additive, if not exponential. From my high school days of how callously I treated young women, to how unfaithful I was to my new wife; yet I could pretend that all was fine…all was normal; my version of normal.
On to Out on Arrival.
Or back to the previous blog Matrimony – Courtship.
babychristian55 