Author: babychristian55

I’m Not Buying What You’re Not Selling

A couple of days ago, I stopped at a local florist shop to pick up some posies for my wife.  The first thing I saw when I opened the door was a woman on her hands-n-knees with her tail-end facing the door.  It was the typical “plumber’s crack view,” with a hint of feminine lace fringe.  Luckily my ninja training kicked in and my eyes went into “bounce mode” while I went away from the sight and up to the counter.  Of course, she was also the employee working the counter and asked if she could help me.  I said I had called earlier about their special and she dutifully got up to take my order; and of course, she was sporting a different version of plumber’s crack on her chest – time to bounce again – but not too far in order to avoid being rude (had to focus on her forehead).

In my BC (before Christ) years, I would have hesitated at the door and my eyes would have gone into “video capture mode” and all images downloaded into the mental rolodex for later ‘scrutiny’.  More images would have been stored from the frontal shots, but my vice of choice back in those days would have been the south end.  Thank God, and I mean literally – thank God – that has all changed.

Matthew 5:27-28 (NIV) – “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

So…I can’t help wondering why so many women dress provocatively and where do most men “fall” between the extremes of deliberate lust and recovering porn addicts when they look at the fairer sex?

Certainly the lady at the florist shop was not selling her “virtues” that were on display, and I was certainly not attempting to buy them either (nor was I shopping).  However, I don’t know how many times I have watched other men twist their heads like owls in order to feast their eyes on a woman (or young girl) that was showing an abundance of skin.  Unfortunately, the parade of butt cheeks and mammary glands is abundant: shopping malls, the workplace, receptionist at professional offices, and yes…Walmart.

I’ve skimmed articles from feminists that proclaim that their body is “their body!” and they can proclaim their female gender any way they please to.  Unless we want to enter the realm of transgender, I think biology has taken care of the issue of identifying the opposite sex pretty well and uncovering really suits no purpose – or does it?

From my limited perspective, when women wear a short skirt, low cut blouse, thong on the beach, etc., they’re fishing, some desperately.  Ladies…if that’s what you’re doing, please consider what kind of fish you’re going to catch; i.e., the big googly eyed ones that will not stop looking even after they’re supposedly trapped in your aquarium of (sometimes) wedded bliss.  “Sometimes” is in parentheses since living together is so accepted now.

While my wife & I were in the initial throes of my recovery from porn (etc), we learned that men are visual (gee – no kidding) and that they get their intimacy through sex; whereas women were more relational and their intimacy was the post climax cuddle, or better yet – the casual foreplay of being loved throughout the day.  However, when sex  occurs out of marriage it’s like your favorite potato chip – bet you can’t eat just one!  You eat the one (maybe two) and still find yourself empty…still wanting more because there is just something missing.  Frequent sexual partners, frequent masturbation is just a potato chip.  You need the full meal deal of marriage, and commitment to your significant other to fully realize what God wanted for us.

Porn gradually changed how I viewed women; from being a person to becoming an object.  After viewing the hundreds of pictures available for free on the internet it becomes similar to looking at the a diagram for cuts of meat:

Which morphs into something disgusting, like this:

 

Sure, you can rationalize the damage is already done, the camera shutter has closed and the pictures have been uploaded; the women are probably 20 years older now and have their doctorates in psychology because posing for pictures was the only way to work through college.

When I quit looking at porn I gradually ceased looking at women as objects – including my wife.  My relationship with her now is the best that I have ever had.  It is what God intended in the first place and I’m so fortunate and thankful.

Ladies & gents, that is what I wish for you too.  Respect each other. Love each other for who they are, not what they think they need to be (to capture your eye).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m sure at some point in our lives that we’ve witnessed some kind of nature show that let’s us see all the crazy things that go on in the animal kingdom when romance is in the air.  Typically it seems that the males are the “pretty boys;” especially when it comes to birds, however mandrill baboons are fairly sporty looking too.

Jump up to the higher mammals and it seems that the roles reverse in that human females invest a lot of effort into looking desirable and available.  Although I have seen some males that …well…never mind.  My first wife was into the eye shadow, base, blush, etc. and she didn’t over do it – which was good.  I had seen plenty of “painted ladies of the night” while in the service overseas.  My wife “until death do us part” has never indulged in make up, or what I used to refer to as “war paint.” I think the key thing for women is to remember that you can’t wear that stuff 24/7.  You actually have to wash and sleep sometime; then guess what?  The man in your life will see you as you are, and that should be all that matters in the first place.

 

 

 

An Open Letter to My Son’s Bride

Dear Daughter…

The purpose of this letter is to share my hope that your marriage to my son will last for eternity.  My motivation is that I do not want the two of you to experience the sorrow of divorce anymore than you have already with other family members and friends.  Note that I did not wish the two of you one of the usual cliches like “…filled with happiness…” because that’s not real. There will be happiness, there will be sorrow; because that’s life and I’m sure that I’m not telling you something that you don’t already know.

By virtue of your and my son’s individual accomplishments, it’s readily apparent that you both are driven to succeed in anything you set your goals on.  That takes strong will, dedication, perseverance – all good qualities.  I have no doubt that whatever you two take on together – you will not only succeed, but conquer.  Yet we all remain individuals that have been molded by our life experiences from childhood to the present, and we are constantly changing.  Therefore it is only natural that two people will not be in 100% agreement on everything, but agreement is still necessary through compromise – without compromising your values.  Mutual participation is also necessary.  Abandoning a partner’s goal and telling them “it’s all yours” is not a relationship; compromise with resentment is a smoldering coal.

Before I offer any more “sage advice,” let me share my marital experiences with you.  Undoubtedly other people have already shared their perspective with you on the very same subject, so I’m presenting another surface of the coin…the edge with no end.  So here it goes…

His mother & I were married in a Catholic church even though I was not a believer in God in any way, shape, or form.  The priest wasn’t too happy with that, but compromised when we both promised to raise our future kids Catholic.  If anyone would have told me that I was destined for divorce back then, I would have told that person in no uncertain and very colorful terms – that they were wrong.  I loved her, very much.  I saw in her and in her family (mostly her mom and 3 brothers), a family life that I never had, nor knew existed.  I’m not slamming my mom.  She gave up pretty much everything to keep me, since I was born out of wedlock.  It was the ‘big family’ aspect that appealed to me; wrestling around with her two younger brothers, trying to help her older brother with his truck, and doing things for her mom.

I was still in the navy when we got married and made two deployments (6-7 months each).  I hated the deployments, and sadly coming back was difficult for both of us – trying to readjust at being a couple after months of separation.  I was far from a saint when deployed, because I behaved just like I had before…the drunken lecherous sailor, because that’s what sailors do…that’s what ‘real men’ do.  I was so wrong.  Did I feel guilty?  Yes, to a degree, but I was too easily swayed by my so called shipmates that what I was doing – was OK, no big deal.

Suffice to say my behavior didn’t change during the entire marriage.  I was in a cycle.  I’d straighten up and behave, then I’d wander again – all the time maintaining the facade of a happy marriage.  The crazy thing about it is that I was still convinced that this was normal.  That either every couple went through this or lied about it.  I think we went through marriage counseling 3 or 4 times; band-aids for an ailing marriage.  In retrospect I find it ironic that none of the counselors ever recognized what was going on; not even the slightest hint.  I got to the point where I felt that I could not continue to put her through this cycle.  Of course I felt I was being so noble – what a crock; I was being selfish.  I wouldn’t attempt to discuss differences anymore, because that turned into argument – I cut the communication lines.  Truth, honesty, transparency were long gone in the relationship; assuming there was much of it in the relationship in the first place.

My present wife and I met on-line.  I wasn’t looking for a future wife and she wasn’t looking for a future husband.  We both came from long term marriages that were crumbling.  Fast forward through the divorce – sometimes I wish I could just forget it all, but that’s not real.  I have to hold on to the pain and try to make some good out of it…that’s what I’m trying to do by sharing this.

Before getting married the 2nd time, she & I both vowed that it would be a new start, and that we would not repeat the mistakes from our first marriages.  Moreover, we would guard against the circumstances that lead us to meet each other on-line.  We would have truth, honesty, transparency, and open communication between us; how could two people in their 40’s be so naive.  I still didn’t know what my real problem was, but “I thought I knew.”  We got married at the county courthouse; just kept it simple.

We both had false ideals that we could become the ultimate blended family – which didn’t work as well as we hoped, but we tried.  We were happy with each other; happy in our new relationship, until 12 years later and our relationship was splintered through its heart. She found emails that spoke of the sin (it took me a year to grasp that definition) that I had carried for 45 years (from the age of 15).  She had every intent of divorcing me, no buts about it.  I had violated the promise we had made to one another and had to pay the price.

So how is it that we are still married?  That’s the point of this whole letter.

First a quick background on my wife, she had been raised in a Christian environment and had cycled through periods of dedicated belief to times of hurt and anger toward God.  She was on her way to making spiritual things right when she made the life changing discovery of my email.  Simply put, God told her to give me a second chance, and He had to repeat it a few times because she wasn’t in immediate agreement by any means.

While God was telling my wife what to do, He reached over and flicked a switch. Because ever since that day I have not pursued my sinful behavior and I think that’s when I also quit swearing (although I admit I have been slipping lately at work, and that will stop).  I’ve heard that for most people that they have to hit rock bottom before they will cry out to God to save them.  I indeed had hit rock bottom in my marriage, but I never reached out to God.  I was so lost, and He found me.

Just like in my first marriage and starting marriage counseling, my company’s benefits section gave me 3 numbers to call and I called the first one on the list.  I didn’t know at the time that it was ‘faith based counseling.’  Luckily the lady didn’t beat me over the head with a Bible, although I certainly deserved it; she was very ‘light’ in her references to religion.  Her recommendation was for me to read the book “Every Man’s Battle,” which helped immensely.  We also watched a sermon series from a SC church called “Better Together” which helped put things in perspective.

Four months later, I decided to try church for the first time since I was elementary age.  The song “Good, Good Father” was played and I fell apart.   I think that was another turning point for me in that I quit listening to secular music; now it’s Christian music only and I truly enjoy it (despite the DJ brother’s opinion – haha).

Neither one of us are, nor will we ever be – totally over the events that almost lead to divorce.  What we have experienced and learned, we try to share with others in our local church to in attempt to help them get through similar circumstances.  It took me a solid year of deliberation to rationalize how God is real and how my engineering analytical mindset can co-exist with Him.  My foundation falls back to Him coming to me even after I repeatedly turned my back on Him for years.

So all along what was missing from the first marriage and what carried over into the second was the lack of God. Truth, honesty, transparency, and open communication are important, but they are far from being enough.

I’m by no means implying that either of you are carrying some deep dark secret like what burdened me for years.  What I am witnessing, is what a powerful difference God can make in your lives, and you really don’t have to change too much.  Christianity doesn’t mean life is no longer fun; it means life is fuller and just as fun.

If you put God as #1, everything else falls into place.  So for the two of you, that’s what I pray for.  If you both put God as #1 that’s your compass, that is what will keep you aligned.  Not saying that God makes everything easy; belief in Him gives everything purpose.

A Little White Lie

Let’s break it down, just for the linguistic fun of it:

A – one of the shortest words in the English language; even beats out “I” because it is supposedly a shorter syllable.

Little – used to emphasize how small an amount is

White – usually associated with light, goodness, innocence, purity, and virginity; the color of perfection; a positive connotation

Lie – speak falsely or utter untruth knowingly; as with intent to deceive

Put them all together:

A little white lie – a lie about a seemingly small or unimportant/insignificant matter that someone tells to avoid hurting another person

Put that on the back burner of your mental stove and let it simmer.

Do you recall ever hearing the simple riddle of how to eat an elephant?  The answer being ‘one bite at a time.’  Put that on the other back burner.

One more thing to add into the mix…”marijuana is the gateway drug to ‘harder’ drug…”  Hmm…..I guess who ever dreamed this phrase up couldn’t see the shot of whiskey or beer bottle on their desk.

Back to the white lie…

From a ‘mathematical approach,’ I should be able to add up the definitions of the individual words and get the same overall meaning of the phrase.  Surprisingly, it almost works except for ‘white.’  A huge contradiction between what ‘white’ represents versus a ‘lie.’  So we in effect twist the context of ‘white’ and use its meaning to soften the blow of lying to someone…I don’t want to hurt your feelings….I don’t want to offend you…etc.

So to put all of my mental babbling together….

A little white lie is the first bite out of the elephant of truth and it’s the gateway to something that can rapidly become something hurtful.  Usually the act of white-lying is just another layer of hiding a bigger, deeper, darker lie.

So….what brought all of this on?  Why the fascination about white lies?

The other night my wife and I were on the couch; it was potty time for me and upon assuming the position on the great throne of thought…I had a thought.  More like the question, “where’s my cell phone?”  Then I remembered that I left it on the couch next to my wife; mystery solved and I’d just have to get on with business instead of sitting there pondering the universe through my phone.

The kicker in this, is that a scant 3 years ago I would have been in a semi-state of panic.  “Oh expletive!”  What did I leave open?  What email is not deleted?  What game chat is not closed?  I wouldn’t have had thoughts like that back then if I had been honest…not just honest with my wife, but with myself.  The liar’s best friend is guilt, and then they invite the rest of their buddies: anxiety, stress, etc. Yet that night when I lost my phone, it was an epiphany.  The realization of how completely free I felt that I no longer have to worry about what I said/lied about, felt guilty about.

When you accept Christ, you sometimes hear about having your chains broken.  I had never really considered “lying” as a chain; certainly not a major one.  Yet the joy I felt in the realization of the freedom I now have from not lying…was just…just amazing, and now it’s something else not to take for granted.  Moreover, something else to thank Jesus/God/Lord for doing for me.  Yes, I’m still confused by some of this Christianity stuff but after all – I’m still a baby christian, and I will be for a long time.

Case in point:

God takes lying pretty seriously; it’s the ninth commandment.  Yet you can find examples of acceptable lying in the Bible.  Something in the book of Joshua about two Israelite spies in Jericho and how the prostitute Rahab conveniently neglects to mention to the authorities that she knows where they were from.  So the Bible has examples of where lying is OK; go figure.

But I will say what I do know.  That happened a few thousand years ago and whatever transpired is between God and them.  It’s certainly not my place to judge.  I also know that the gift was given to me, that freed me from lying, from porn, from all of the stupid stuff that took so much from me, from my wife, and what hurt so many people in my past…I know that it is real and that’s what makes sense to me.

My wife’s uncle was a pastor for years and he once said that no one has it right; which is pretty evident when you see the thousands of different religions in the world.  Kind of like the old Buffalo Springfield song “For What It’s Worth” and the lyric “…nobody is right if everybody is wrong…”  My wife and I watch Perry Noble when we can; in one sermon (many moons ago) he mentioned he was sick of religion, and all he was going to do was to follow Jesus.  I think that’s pretty good advice.

How can you go wrong?

 

Flesh or Fantasy

I have this mental juke box that play’s random music; sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes not so much.  The other morning I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to do just that…wee…aka senior basketball; i.e., just sit there and dribble for awhile.  Anyway, I got some musical accompaniment in the form of Billy Idol crooning “Flesh for Fantasy.”

Many (and I mean many) moons ago I’d mindlessly chant along with the chorus without a care.  Now days, that kind of thinking doesn’t fly just due to the connotations of the song title itself.  But at zero dark thirty, I don’t need to be listening to stuff that is too reminiscent of what my former self used to do.  So I groggily recognize what I think is going on; Mr. Pointy Tail (aka the devil) has nothing better to do than mess around in my head.

I take immediate offense, and launch into a litany for four-letter words (silently, cause I don’t want to wake my wife), and then I realize that I just gave him another inch.  Ever the ultimate trickster, he eats away at you like the old saying:  “How do you eat an elephant?  Just one bite at a time.”

According to Christian 101, you’re supposed to have scripture memorized for times like these so you can ‘press play’ and let it override what ever is flipping you out.  Unfortunately I haven’t mastered that defense, but my mental juke box rescued me and starting playing Casting Crowns “Face Down.”  For the life of me I could not fathom, what relevance that song had to do with Billy Boy and Mr. Pointy Head.

Since I’m not the sharpest stick in your eye, it took me a day or two for the pieces to fall into place.  “Face down” is the posture I should have ‘figuratively’ taken that early morning.  Face on the floor in thanks to God for rescuing me from myself, for freeing me from a past that can sometimes be just too fresh in my mind.

Yard Bird

El and I had finally made it to the next “upgrade,” from college student to degreed professional.  Bear in mind that El’s family resided in Tallahassee and we’d been in Gainesville for three years, which meant semi-frequent trips to Tally town to maintain her family connections.  The new job was in Newport News VA, which held unpleasant memories for El since right after we got married it was off to Norfolk VA to live while the ship was in a “short” yard period.  Nevertheless, we enjoyed the new income ($25k/year) and the opening of a new chapter in our lives.  We had put off starting a family until I graduated (and got a job), so now was the time to make a grandkid for the folks.  We had flip-flopped about kids for a while – which was strange (in ways) for me since being around her family (and brothers) was part of what drew me to marriage.

I hired on as an entry-level engineer and wrote test procedures for submarine overhaul.  It was OK, but I got a self-important attitude that I didn’t spend three years in school to be a glorified tech writer.  What held me back was the good ole GPA.  I lobbied (heavily) to get a trial shot at working in the analytical group; I did well enough to be allowed to stay and actually enjoyed “number crunching.”  Surprisingly, I can’t remember the perversity surfacing during the three years at the shipyard, although there were several (probably continuous) instances of coarse humor while in the analytical group.  The guy I sat next to was just as crass (if not a little more) as I was, so the two youngish admin ladies bore the brunt of our off-color comments.  I’m sure the office gals were glad that the overhaul group was broken up as the shipyard continued to lose overhaul contracts.  I think moving on to a brief stint of work on an Ohio class, then moving to fast attack hydraulic support helped to keep my mind off of sexual stupidity.

Another influencing factor was the “family creation” experience that El & I had.  I was all inspired to further my degree and pursue a Master’s at ODU (Old Dominion) in the field of computational fluid dynamics.  Big dreams for someone that had to take the fluids class twice.  El’s pregnancy put an end to that effort since she was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, so I had to stay close to home with her being relegated to maximum bed rest.  Our first son was (and still is – to me) an absolute joy.  Fatherhood floored me.  I never imagined the profound effect of holding a little one in your arms and having “your baby” just look at you.  In writing this…I think my son was the primary reason that perversity was absent from the time in VA.

Although fatherhood helped dispel the dismal gray VA skies, it didn’t take much convincing to follow a co-worker and pursue a job in Florida and the opportunity to work the space shuttle program.  Of course, El was all for it since it put her closer to Tally town and her family.

So we were off to the next chapter…in Return to Florida.

Or back to the previous blog Gator Country.

 

 

 

 

Just Say No to Dominoes

Every once in awhile you’ll see someone on TV or in a movie that does something crazy with dominoes that far exceeded what you may have done with a set when you were a kid.  You know….stack them single file and when you’re done – just give the lead one a nudge and the chain reaction is put in motion, aka ‘the domino effect.’

Now consider the notion that pot/marijuana/weed/etc. is considered the ‘gateway drug’ to other hallucinogens.  Which some people believe (mostly non-potheads) and some do not (potheads).  A form of drug dominoes, if you will.

This book “Sex for One” came up on my suggested reading list a while back, and my first inclination was to write a review on it.  The review would have been 1 out of 5 stars and I would have slammed it for the author’s recommendation that masturbation is natural, acceptable, and a preferred method of dealing with sexual frustration.  I did not write the review – yet.  In fairness, I felt that I should read the book first, then write my opinion.  However, a quick glance through the table of contents seems to indicate that it’d be a good book for a married couple to explore – together, but that’s about the extent.

So back to dominoes; masturbation is the gateway drug to porn – just like the Bible has all of those crazy ‘begats.’  Sex drive begat masturbation begat porn begat flirtation begat infidelity begat adultery.  I’m sure there’s a multitude of other begats that could be stuck in between, but you get the idea.

Where’s the source?  The devil of course.  Like any or all sin, it starts with a nudge from Satan.  Laying in bed and you get random ‘wood;’ “just a little extra rub with that scratch, it won’t hurt anything…” says our non-friend.  Then your imagination kicks in to help you along, to get to the big finish of it all.  But after awhile the imagination needs some help, so our buddy tells us a little porn is OK; it’s like you’re not hurting the women in them – pictures have already been taken, etc.  The various rationales just keep tumbling down.  And you buy it.  Cause it’s just you and the one eyed helmet headed soldier of doom – no one else; oh, except for the portfolio of butt shots or  boob shots or crotch shots of countless women hidden on an app on your phone that looks like a calculator.  Gee, if its ‘nothing,’ then why is it hidden on your phone?  Speaking of the various ‘shots;’ did you notice that we now have categories?  We have ‘object files,’ we’ve succeeded in objectifying those women into nothing but body parts.

So now you’re the ‘Terminator,’ no matter where you are – you are scanning for targets and their soft vulnerable parts; classifying if ‘you would or would not.’  After sometime the mind becomes bored of that game; you might not even need Satan’s help this time to up the ante further.  Hmm…remember some of those other apps that seemed to have ‘interesting potential’?  Why not? Why not just try them out for a little interesting discourse just to rev your engine up; and it does.  Texting leads to a phone call; the phone call leads to teasing remarks about actually meeting.  Where does it stop?

More importantly, how does it leave you feeling after you’ve thrown that wad of saturated Kleenex away?  Empty?  Unfulfilled?  Guilty?  Yep.

Just as empty as you felt the first time you took matters into hand after the devil gave you a little prod and told you…don’t worry, it’s just you and you’re not hurting anyone else.

Oh…in case you were wondering, where this all left me was at the edge of teasing remarks and the interaction dwindling to nothing. Until my wife found emails that I hadn’t deleted and divorce was a popular topic and I was deep in despair; meanwhile I’m sure the devil was having a ball until my wife’s faith in God saved our relationship. It took me a year to figure out that God found me and fixed me, and for that I am eternally grateful.

So the moral of the story my friend, is to just say no to dominoes.

TCC Land

Back to school…I certainly had some misgivings since it had been 4 years that I was in high school, but I did do well in the 3 classes (Program Afloat College Education) I took aboard ship over a couple of med cruises.  Taking a class – one at a time – was a big difference from taking 4 at a time while I was paying (in a way) for it.

Pursuing a degree was a bi-rationale thing.  One night on feed pump watch in the engine room I wondered what kind of strange mind could imagine all of that hardware and how it worked together.  I followed up by asking the various folk in khakis (senior enlisted & officers) and found out that a mechanical engineer was responsible.  Being entitled to the GI Bill meant decent money coming in provided I went full time (12 semester hours ~ 4 classes a term).  The job hunt wasn’t going too well, but the GI money would certainly help. Luckily the combination of PACE classes, CLEP’ing some classes, and my age meant I could bypass a lot of the really boring classes & PE.

For the most part I was serious about my studies, as opposed to how I was in high school.  Yet I found time to sniff after my female classmates – nothing seriously happened – but being married meant that I had no business being so flirtatious.  There was always time for drinking & smoking, and going to class in that condition; especially US History class.  Nothing finer than being read to straight out of the text book to drive you to getting toasted.

There was a weird instance in which I was attracted to a female student that I later learned was also married, but she was pretty insistent that I hook up with her husband – we used to get hammered a lot.  Later on I discovered that she was using me to entertain her husband while she had an affair with someone else.  You’d think that there was a lesson there, but obviously I didn’t learn it.

During my time at community college I enlisted in the navy reserve. Of course I waited too long to go in, so I lost a stripe; went from E5 to E4.  Playing weekend warrior brought in some extra cash and a 2 week vacation in South Carolina working on a ship.

I managed to get my Associate in Arts degree with honors and was planning with El for the next step; i.e., which 4 year college to transfer to.  The first choice was University of South Florida in Tampa, but after El & I took a trip down south – we decided that the gulf coast wasn’t it for us.  By graduating with honors, I was accepted to University of Florida in Gainesville; however they would not accept me into their engineering program until I had taken physics & calculus. That equated to two more semesters at TCC so El & I asked if we could move in with her mother (she had divorced by that time – I think) on the premise that we could save some money for the move to Gainesville.

Also somewhere in that time frame I got a job as a small engine mechanic which lasted maybe a year before he cut me loose due to business falling off.  Got lucky and landed a job at a Dodge dealer as a ‘new car prep’ mechanic which entailed prepping cars for delivery, installing cruise control, stereos, etc.

Moving in with El’s ma was a mistake. She immediately became reabsorbed into her family role with her brothers & mom.  Join that with me working at car dealership with a cute & flirty 19 year old blonde and it wasn’t long before I decided the grass was greener and El & I separated.  I lived with a male coworker and as soon as I had separated from El, little giggly blonde wanted nothing to do with me.  Free marriage counseling through the college brought me back to El after about a month and I thought I was cured. But you have to know what’s wrong before you can fix it, and I had no idea.

I don’t recall much self pleasure in those days, primarily because it has been so long ago and there probably wasn’t anything that stood out.  However, I can guess that it continued due to constant exposure to younger classmates and an occasional alluring professor.

I finished up the required classes then it was time to leave Tally town behind.

On to Gator Country or to intermediate Reflections – TCC.

Or back to the previous blog Out on Arrival.

Out on Arrival

It was a good feeling.

Walking off the ship 21 days before my enlistment would have been officially over – felt like I was getting a little pay back for all the long hours on that “haze gray and underway” monstrosity.  Yet I did check into re-enlisting for something like a $10k-$12k bonus for 5 more years of my life; provided they gave me overseas shore duty in Rota Spain.  El was into it, but in retrospect I’m not sure how well she would have handled being away from her family for 3 years.  I didn’t sign the papers because I would have been required to spend almost another 2 years on the carrier.  My job was considered ‘critical’ and required 5 years sea time, then you get 2 years shore.  So ‘they’ would have been doing me a big favor to give me 3 years overseas shore duty early.  No thanks.

Now it was back to civilian life, but the odd thing was – I didn’t really know what single adult civilian life was like.  I went into the navy straight out of high school and came out as a young married man; unemployed at that.  For the longest time I blamed all of my marital problems and personal sex issues on never having the opportunity to living a ‘normal’ single life, aka sow my wild young adult male oats.  In retrospect I did plenty of oat sowing, and I reaped what I sowed.

Before I deployed on the last cruise, El had moved out of the Neptune Beach apartment and went back to live with her folks in Tallahassee.  So when she picked me up from my last walk off the ship, we were headed to the new apartment in Tally-town. When I first met her, she was a telephone operator; after returning to her Florida stomping grounds she secured a job as a dental assistant.  The dentist was just establishing his practice; his wife worked the front office, and he was willing to train her (so he could pay her less money than one with experience).

I doubt if El’s income would have supported the new apartment for long; in addition, to buying furniture, etc., so I need to get on unemployment/find a job – quickly. So what did I do?  I sat around in the living room – a lot, and watched the view.  The view being the young 20 year old bikini clad girls frolicking in the pool, and of course – I took matters into hand.

It was ‘strongly suggested’ by El and her mother that I play the ‘name drop’ game and tell anyone that I was applying to for a job, that I was Mr. Outdoor’s son-in-law.  I had a real aversion to that.  I felt that if I couldn’t get a job on my own merits, then it wasn’t worth having.  However, after a few or so ‘you are not qualified,’ I gave in and tried it.  Guess what?  That didn’t work either. And I could have sworn that it was almost had more of a negative effect based on the interviewer’s expression.

Finally I did get a job, but I was getting paid under the table.  Mounting pumps and motors on big steel bases.  They tried to teach me welding; I tried my best, but I sucked well enough that the job didn’t last long.  Turned out to be more of an interim thing, now that I think of it more.  Waiting for the new semester to start at the junior college, since I had had a longing to become an engineer after my days in the engine room.

So it’s off to TCC Land.

Or back to the previous blog Matrimony – Take One.

 

Matrimony – Take One

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.

Matrimony – Courtship

Courting the Tallahassee Lassie – NO, not a reference to the TV series that had a collie as the star – the reference is to a 1960 song by Freddy Cannon of the same title.  So to make things simpler, let’s just call her “El” for short, OK?

 Idaho and I had a time trying to date girls that were a 3 hour drive away.  Our crazy navy work schedule didn’t help matters much since we might go out to sea from 5 days to 2 weeks at random intervals and then add in our “duty days & weekends” while in port – just made for a lot of creative juggling.  Luckily, the ladies were fine with coming out to see us on a regular basis, or maybe it was just an excuse to go to the beach since we were providing the hotel room.  I don’t recall how long it took until Idaho and I stopped sharing the one room to permit “more privacy.”
At some point came the obligatory meeting of the parental units.  She had three younger brothers, the oldest was a bit odd – but a nice kid.  The younger two were a ball to play with.  Her mom was the classic Italian, all hugs and “eat, eat, eat.”  The father and I didn’t hit it off too well.  He was Mr. Great White Hunter & Sportsman; remember how well I developed (not) my love for hunting and fishing with my step-father?  Besides that, you could tell that there was “an air” about him, or at least I felt like some poop that he just stepped on and couldn’t get off his gucci loafers.
Being immersed into El’s family life had a significant influence on my perception of where I wanted the relationship to go.  In ways, it was too noisy and complicated for an only child like myself.  But seeing how she interacted with her brothers (kind of like a mini-mom) made me think she’d be a great mother.  Of course I developed an opinion of myself that I could be a good father because of how well I got along with her younger  brothers (despite my male role models).  However I did learn later that fatherhood is a lot more than just being a playmate.
As part of the 1970’s courtship ritual, I continued to press El for sex and after countless sessions of heavy “romancing,” I got my way and stole her virginity.  But for once it did seem “right” because at the time I was firmly convinced that “she was the one,” and you would have never been able to convince me otherwise.  But was it right?
No it was not.  It was definitely a theft of immense proportion.  With her virginity came love, trust, and things I’ll never understand because I never took the time to discuss it with her.  It was not mine to take, no matter how willing she was. Chivalry  should not have been dead that night or the subsequent nights that followed.
The courtship developed into sort of a pattern and about 8 months later I asked her to marry before I had to go to Virginia for a navy school. She said yes and we made plans to tie the knot when I came back from my second deployment.
I missed the start of the 2nd med cruise thanks to the school I was in and upon graduation, it was a plane trip to Greece to catch the ship.  The new school didn’t get me off of the carrier; it just put me into a different job, replete with new faces and levels of stupidity.
You’d think that someone who had just got engaged to the love of his life would honor that commitment; nope, not me.  I had a new band of shipmates to get drunk with and chase international whores.  Some of us just have trouble figuring things out, and it would be another 35 years before I saw the light.

 

On to Matrimony – Take One.

Or back to the previous blog Matrimony – First Contact.