After Jason was born I finished school and graduated with a B average, I had a job with the Bank of Commerce 2 weeks before grad and I put the past behind me; or so I thought, but as his 1st birthday approached I found it harder and harder to cope. Finally one day I broke down at work and my supervisor sent me home and told me to take stress leave and get help dealing with the issues of having a child and giving him up for adoption.
I don’t want to go into the details of my childhood here; my father and I have recently reconnected after not speaking for almost 20 years, I have no idea if he has seen my blog, my mom knows I have it but hasn’t read it but I don’t want to create problems for or with my folks. Suffice to say I carried issues from my childhood and refused to face them for many years. I would go to counseling and the minute they brought up my dad I would stop going, my mom tends to bury her head in the sand thinking what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. But I had migraines by the age of 9, ulcers by 10 or 11 and attempted to overdose on pills and cheap red wine when I was about 13. The night I took all the pills I threw up and that is why I didn’t succeed and ended up just sleeping the whole day the next day. I know they knew I had tried to kill myself because after that the booze was locked up, the sharp knives went missing and the pills were moved but no one said anything to me.
I started to diet immediately after having Jason and ended up being anorexic from the age of about 19 until I was in my early thirties. I would weigh myself 20 or more times a day, if I was up a pound I would take diuretics, if I ate I would take laxatives, I would starve myself for days at a time and kept very accurate tabulations of my caloric intake and my daily a.m. and p.m. weight. I screwed up my metabolism so badly that I could gain 8 lbs just from eating a decent meal. My emotions could be erratic, as were my periods. I also carried with me an irrational fear that I would never have another child; that I had my one chance to have a child and blown it; then at the age of 21 my pap smear came back with cancer cells and over the course of the next 5 years I went for pap smears every 3 months and they performed various procedures in an attempt to keep the cancer under control to allow me time to have another baby.
I didn’t realize it at the time but looking back at pictures and from the attention I got from men I gather I was a fairly attractive woman, tall, slim with a big smile and witty sense of humor; I was asked out a lot and had developed a confident persona but the only thing I was confident about was my sexual prowess. I knew how to please a man, Wayne had taught me well and I used my skills to my advantage. I had several long term loving relationships but it didn’t matter what the man tried I never had an orgasm during sex; I just shut down, I felt nothing. I knew I could have orgasms, I gave them to myself all the time but whenever I got even close with a man a switch when off and I would go numb.
As insecure as I felt about my appearance I was confident in my abilities and wasn’t afraid to try new things and take a chance. I had an “it doesn’t hurt to try” attitude about most everything. When the bank sent out a notice looking for people to join the “On-Line team” (a team of up to 12 people who went from branch to branch throughout BC converting branches to an on-line banking system) I applied. That’s how old I am, I worked in banks BEFORE computers!!! Bonnie the supervisor hired me because, “I can’t believe you had the audacity to apply, you have practically none of the qualifications and will be the youngest on the team, but I like your spunk so I’ll give you a try.”
I turned 21 the week I started with the on-line team and had been dating a real estate agent from Chilliwack. He had pursued me for quite a while before I gave in and I was starting to really care for him by then; it was an exciting time in my life. We celebrated my birthday at a Greek restaurant and my real estate agent was there along with over a dozen friends. There was a table of two men sitting enjoying watching the revelers at our table and decided to send me a tray of about 8 different liquors, I was instructed to sample them all and they would buy me the one I preferred. I never back down from a challenge and did as I was told. Then I went around buying birthday kisses with pieces of birthday cake and at the end of the night I danced with the waiter and people threw plates at our feet. The dancing started because I had been making a big production of stuffing napkins down my top in order to look bigger busted, I guess the waiter had been counting the napkins and when I got to 7 he grabbed my hand and said, “Come, we are going to do the dance of the 7 napkins”. He took me out in the middle of the restaurant and started pulling napkins from my blouse, first the neck and then from between the buttons, and I stopped him and pulled the last two out myself. The whole restaurant was clapping and cheering. As we walked to his car my real estate agent said, “I thought you were shy”.
I put my furniture in storage and lived out of a suitcase for the next 10 months, it was a wonderful experience; lots of drinking and partying. Twelve of us between the ages of 21 and 34 spent the 2 months of summer in the Okanogan, I had an expense account that covered everything and I had a boyfriend at home whenever I made it back which was about every 2nd weekend. The real estate agent and I joined a motorcycle club, he was president and I was social director so we were very involved in a lot of activities like Poker Runs, fund raisers, dances etc. I wrote a monthly newsletter that went out to the membership and he and I were a “couple” in everyone’s eyes and every weekend I was home we were together.
I was good at catering to a man’s needs in every area but I didn’t take any shit from anyone either, if the guy didn’t treat me right or if he was too controlling I would give him a chance or two, voice my concerns rationally and then if nothing happened I would dump him and moved on to the next one. Once my mind was made up it was over, it was over. And that is what happened when I met Victor just as I was turning 22. After I got off the road it became apparent my real estate agent wasn’t seeing just me and told me he had plans to go on a month’s vacation with another woman. I told him that when he got back from his vacation he had better have made a decision, either he was committed to me or I was not seeing him any more. By the time he got back and had decided he was ready to commit I had met Victor and was moving to Ontario.
Victor was a French Canadian in the Armed Forces, when I told my dad he had asked me out my dad said, “There’s no way my daughter is dating a French Canadian.” I thought he was serious and then he said, “Because they fight with their feet, eat with their hands and fuck with their face and no daughter of mine is going to date one.” And he was right. Victor was charming and treated me like a lady, came to pick me up for our first date dressed in dress slacks and a sports jacket, he was very good looking, with the bluest blue eyes, a dimple in his chin, of course short hair being in the army, he had a broken nose that just added to his “bad boy” image. He wasn’t tall, about 5’10”, my height and he had a natural body builder type frame, and he just had a devilish way about him. He was a bar room brawler, every body’s buddy, lady’s man, man’s man, sensitive, romantic, and the best damn dancer I’ve seen before or since him. This man could jive with 3 women at one time and never miss a beat. He had no trouble getting women and was a little perplexed that I didn’t fall into bed with him and I think that is what kept him calling me.
The first time we had sex he did not give up until I had an orgasm. We had been dating about a month when he was transferred to the army base in Borden, Ontario and said, “If I thought you’d come I’d ask you to come with me.” And my reply had been, “If I thought you’d ask I would probably go.” So I went into work the next day and requested a transfer to our branch in Borden, thinking it could take up to a year to come through and we would just see how long this long distance relationship would last. The last day of work for him fell on a Thursday and he had plans for one last piss up with his buddies and asked me to drop by in the morning the next day and have a coffee with him before I went to work. At the bank we alternated coming in late on Friday because we were open until 6 and it was my Friday to start work at 10 am. Victor lived with Pierre; his best buddy and a real lady killer; or so he fancied himself to be anyway.
I got to their place about 8:30 and when I walked in the house I immediately noticed the woman’s shoes by the door and laughed to myself, “Oh Pierre, you got lucky again.” the house was silent except for the tsk tsk tsk of the needle on the stereo hitting the end of a record. I went over shut the stereo off and put the needle arm in the cradle. The coffee table had an empty bottle of wine on it, cigarettes stubs with bright pink lipstick on the filters and stubs of candles long since dead. In the corner was the gift I had wrapped the two nights before for my parents anniversary that we were celebrating tonight with dinner out and some dancing. I went in the kitchen and plugged in the kettle and then made me way down the hallway to wake Victor up by snuggling into bed. Pierre’s room was across the hall from Victor’s and I could see his door was open, I expected to see a woman passed out in his bed but it was empty. Victor’s bedroom door stuck so when I pushed it opened with a “thung” and my eyes scanned the room. Two near empty glasses of red wine, the empty bottle beside them on the dresser, two candles that were at the end of their life had dripped wax down the sides of the wine bottles that held them. I could see Victor’s dark hair peeking out from under the covers at the top of the bed and there was a headless lump laying beside him. I said in a sing song voice, “Victor dear, honey, I’m here”. He didn’t move but the headless lump sprang upright. Her naked massive tits flopped over the covers, her makeup smeared, hair disheveled, and with her eyes squinting she looked at me and said, “Oh fuck, the shits gonna hit the fan now.” And rolled over and went back to being a headless lump under the covers beside Victor. I gave his face a light slap and said one more time in my normal voice, “Victor I am here, wake up.” When he rolled over I knew I had better get out of there before I lost control and started wailing on him, and her.
I pulled the kettle out of the wall by throwing it the length of the house, ripped apart the gift for my folks and threw anything else I could lift and slammed the door. I left rubber in all 4 gears to the corner and up the next street. When I walked through the door to my apartment the phone was ringing and I let it, poured myself a stiff rye and water and called the bank to say I had come down with something and wouldn’t be in. the phone kept ringing and I kept ignoring it, then there was a knock at my door. I asked who it was and it was him, I told him to go away. He begged me to open the door and just talk to him for a minute. I opened the door, he looked like hell and his face was red like he’d been going down on her all night, then he reached for me and I told him to keep his hands off me and I wouldn’t talk to him until he washed his face because I knew where it had been. he looked so sorry and I was far too mad to talk so I told him to go home, give me some time and maybe I would talk to him later. After a few hours I called and said I was coming over, he had stripped his bed and was washing the bedding, had cleaned the house and was so happy to see me. He said he was sorry, got drunk and screwed up, no excuses, just that he wouldn’t do it again. I had my holidays booked, we were to be leaving in 3 days so I said I would still go on vacation with him and see how things went.
I drove back east with him, had a 2 week vacation and then flew home. The first day back at work I was told I was to start at the Borden branch on the following Monday. I panicked, what if he didn’t still want me to come? Did I love him that much? Was I prepared to make that kind of commitment? But I called him and he was thrilled. Two days later my dad walked in the bank with a goofy look on his face, and then a hand came up over the counter and it held a bouquet of flowers; it was Victor, my dad had picked him up from the airport.
Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck