Most all my life I have been imprudent in selecting a wife, lover or
fiancé, even a short time girlfriend, -all but my last, in which I can
say, I wish I had always chosen my women so wisely.
Rosa has kept peace in my soul, while extending our friendships, situating family gatherings, and bringing tranquility if not acceptance by all into our little nest; she's twelve years younger than I, and short, black hair, dark eyes, and with that bronze look, a cutie.
How then I ask, in spite of this last success, did I start so degenerate, ending up so miserable in my first selection? A rhetorical question at best, if not a statement.
Barbra, was her name. A first love, a high school love, she was fifteen, I was seventeen, she was a bronze skinned and shapely girl, lovey, dark eyes, and dark hair, shorter than she was tall, she was also, haunted by some evil spirit, determined to destroy my life, as well as her own. It was like a snake wormed its way into her belly, gnawing at her vitals, this is my theory, for our marriage lasted all of fifteen-months, and produced a little girl named Darla Dawn, and a boy that she acknowledged was not my child, six-years later.
I should have foreseen that, those things might happen. Even her brother (Mike) conspired against me, and might even be the boy's father. But on the other hand, maybe she just said that to antagonize me: who's to say? It was a night at a bar in 1972, we had met for a few drinks and to talk about whatever, when she was full of wine and other spirits, she told me this; I drew back in surprise. She said, "... his father's name is Mike," hence what, am I to believe, I asked myself? The schemer, half-brother, had plotted to steal my wife, or was there more to it. I didn't ask, and didn't care, and never knew one way or the other.
I went into a mad frenzy and literally kicked her out of our apartment: was she playing the goddess and her brother a viper? I had many dark thoughts for that long, long moment on this.
As the week went by, the week after I plainly removed her from the apartment (in which I'd move out of the apartment the following week and give it to her furnished, I took nothing but my cloths, since she had the baby), the tremor passed. And I met her to set things right: put them back on track, but she gave me a wild stare in the car, her eyes but a foot from mine, "I'm going to the bar to meet someone... " she said, unwilling to mention with whom, but acknowledge it was a person she had been seeing. Again I wanted to grasp her neck and then find him, and do the same, and in this manner, end the charade.
I have nearly forgotten that now, some 46-years later. But I told myself at the time: how can I bring myself to do this evil deed, let the dead lie with the dead; the marriage was over, no matter which way I turned. Yes, I protested, as if she was still my loving wife, and she said I was not blameless, in that I was seeing other women, but truly I hadn't been, although I drank in bars and that I suppose, made her believe so, and I was involved with Karate in the evenings for a few hours after work.
In any case, she had mentally conspired this to justify her evil actions, and six years later she'd ask the same question, "Did I not see other women, during our marriage?" And I-having no reason to lie, said "No, I never went out with another woman, although I gave one a ride home once, but that was that."
It wasn't that I couldn't have, I had many opportunities, but I liked my karate and drinking more, and having a wife, I really didn't need another one.
I think it was fearful suspicion on her part, she had to live with her own guilt, and it was lonely to do so; and she just couldn't believe I was not like her.
Rosa has kept peace in my soul, while extending our friendships, situating family gatherings, and bringing tranquility if not acceptance by all into our little nest; she's twelve years younger than I, and short, black hair, dark eyes, and with that bronze look, a cutie.
How then I ask, in spite of this last success, did I start so degenerate, ending up so miserable in my first selection? A rhetorical question at best, if not a statement.
Barbra, was her name. A first love, a high school love, she was fifteen, I was seventeen, she was a bronze skinned and shapely girl, lovey, dark eyes, and dark hair, shorter than she was tall, she was also, haunted by some evil spirit, determined to destroy my life, as well as her own. It was like a snake wormed its way into her belly, gnawing at her vitals, this is my theory, for our marriage lasted all of fifteen-months, and produced a little girl named Darla Dawn, and a boy that she acknowledged was not my child, six-years later.
I should have foreseen that, those things might happen. Even her brother (Mike) conspired against me, and might even be the boy's father. But on the other hand, maybe she just said that to antagonize me: who's to say? It was a night at a bar in 1972, we had met for a few drinks and to talk about whatever, when she was full of wine and other spirits, she told me this; I drew back in surprise. She said, "... his father's name is Mike," hence what, am I to believe, I asked myself? The schemer, half-brother, had plotted to steal my wife, or was there more to it. I didn't ask, and didn't care, and never knew one way or the other.
I went into a mad frenzy and literally kicked her out of our apartment: was she playing the goddess and her brother a viper? I had many dark thoughts for that long, long moment on this.
As the week went by, the week after I plainly removed her from the apartment (in which I'd move out of the apartment the following week and give it to her furnished, I took nothing but my cloths, since she had the baby), the tremor passed. And I met her to set things right: put them back on track, but she gave me a wild stare in the car, her eyes but a foot from mine, "I'm going to the bar to meet someone... " she said, unwilling to mention with whom, but acknowledge it was a person she had been seeing. Again I wanted to grasp her neck and then find him, and do the same, and in this manner, end the charade.
I have nearly forgotten that now, some 46-years later. But I told myself at the time: how can I bring myself to do this evil deed, let the dead lie with the dead; the marriage was over, no matter which way I turned. Yes, I protested, as if she was still my loving wife, and she said I was not blameless, in that I was seeing other women, but truly I hadn't been, although I drank in bars and that I suppose, made her believe so, and I was involved with Karate in the evenings for a few hours after work.
In any case, she had mentally conspired this to justify her evil actions, and six years later she'd ask the same question, "Did I not see other women, during our marriage?" And I-having no reason to lie, said "No, I never went out with another woman, although I gave one a ride home once, but that was that."
It wasn't that I couldn't have, I had many opportunities, but I liked my karate and drinking more, and having a wife, I really didn't need another one.
I think it was fearful suspicion on her part, she had to live with her own guilt, and it was lonely to do so; and she just couldn't believe I was not like her.
