It just occurred to me as I reread a previous post, about what women are willing to put up with, that I had started to write about my sister, who passed away in November of 2008, but didn't finish it or even continue after a certain point.
Putting it on my blog now seems like the right place and time to continue that, both for my healing, and because I think that I owe it to her to tell her story, even if nobody but me ever reads it.
Excellent idea, Chloe.
I looked for the 'story' I had started long ago, but I can't find it in my files. It's probably best to start over anyway. I will not use my sister's name. And, as with some of my other true writings, as I remember things, I may go back to put it in the order in which it happened, so this may take awhile.
Writing this may help me...and, I'm not sure that I would or even could have done things differently in my sister's defense, but over the last 30 or so years, I have often wondered what I could have done to help her in her situation. As I continue, you will see what I mean, I'm sure.
I would like to talk about her now...my sister. And, I have so much to tell.
*********************************************************************************
She was 2 1/2 years older than me.
We knew each other by heart. If she were here, she would say that. In spite of everything.
I highly recommend sisters sharing a bedroom. I am so glad that I had my sister in the same room with me, even though we both collected more crap in those years than we could fit in the small room, and we didn't have a lot of room to move around, now that I think about it. We had twin beds, and matching headboards. I still have mine. It's wrought iron, and painted white. I keep it in my spare room. I don't know whatever happened to hers, but I am so happy that I still have mine.
We spent so many nights just talking in the dark. Sometimes we'd scratch each other's back...I'd have to say, 'You do mine first', because if I did hers first, she'd fall asleep and I wouldn't get my turn. But, we did talk the night away, sometimes when I was so tired I couldn't stand it any more, and I thought we would finally go to sleep...then she'd say something else that popped into her head. Then I'd be awake again. But, I guess I didn't really care.
She was a very talented musician. She played piano and guitar...many different guitars. She taught herself. She was very patient, unlike me, who would get frustrated and bored and throw it down never to pick it up again...she used to make fun of me because even opening a pack of bologna was frustrating. Instead of opening at the end that said, 'Open', I'd rip the whole thing and then have to wrap it up in Saran Wrap because it wouldn't seal back up.
Anyway, we really became close and I have wonderful memories of sharing that room...I'd do the same thing all over again, and would not change a thing. I think people cheat themselves by having rooms of their own.
I don't think we even ever fought.
I'm not going to tell every single thing I remember about growing up with my sister, because that part isn't really the point. I do want to get into some of the later years, but it is important to lay the groundwork.
*********************************************************************************
She went to college in the fall of 1973. I was then alone in our room for the first time. It was different, that's for sure. Because it was the 'stone ages', there were no cell phones, and I didn't get to talk to her much except when she came home on some weekends. There were a few times that Mom and Dad went to visit relatives near her school, and I got to stay on campus with her for the weekend. Probably not a good idea, since I was 15. But, I survived it.
She finished her 3rd year of college, and then quit. Just quit. She'd met a guy there that had actually gone to high school in a neighboring town as us. And...she decided that she was going to marry him and 'have her own baby'. And, she did. She had 4 of her own babies, as a matter of fact.
But what happened to her in between having her babies was something nobody could have ever predicted.
In 1978 I married a good friend of her husband's. We met at their wedding, actually, in 1976, the same year I graduated from high school. The four of us were inseparable from then on. When she had her first baby, a girl, I was right there...then she had her second...a little boy. Soon after, it was my turn, and I had a baby boy.
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Friday, February 16, 2018
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
As Women Open Up
I have not updated the blog much since I originally wrote it. But right now, there is a lot of 'scuttle' about the Harvey Weinstein scandal. And, be assured, it is a scandal, but not only for him. I've been thinking a lot about the women who are now coming out of the woodwork in Hollywood, and telling their tale and the reasons they kept quiet. Some I believe, some I don't.
The biggest reason, it seems, that women, some who were very young women when they had encounters with Harvey Weinstein, never said anything about what happened, is because they were driven by 'fame and fortune'...what a cliche...but that's what it was. Some have written that they 'whored themselves out'. Well, maybe. They absolutely had stars in their eyes. Many now say they did nearly unspeakable things to stay in the loop, and were promised that big things would come their way...and for many, that did happen. So, what do we call it, then? As they say, 'it is what it is'.
BUT, I have also read some interesting articles written by men who had befriended Harvey Weinstein and had watched this behavior. Although some are saying that they were simply caught up in it, in their younger years, so they looked the other way, even though they KNEW that many women were bribed and paid extremely well for the 'services' they provided for Weinstein, and they knew it was abusive and belittling behavior. However, they also realize, now that they have lived a few more years and have grown into respectable producers or writers, that they have regrets, as many of us do, as we age.
They claim that everybody knew what was going on for so many years, but because they were just as star stricken as the women, and because they accepted the gifts, expensive trips and introductions to other 'powerful' people, they just ignored the nastiness. Doesn't make it right, but at least they are owning up.
Ok...with all of that getting sorted out, here are some things that I don't understand:
People still don't want to talk about this kind of thing. There are countless women, who at some point in their lives (many that I know) have been harassed, humiliated, abused (to some degree) bullied, groped, or ____ fill in the blank here, because there are many more disgusting ways that women and girls have been manipulated.
Where are the self proclaimed 'nasty women', who proudly wore pink hats, representing female genitalia (and, yes, that IS what it represented, even though many people tried to put a spin on that and say it wasn't...eye roll...) and marched with signs proclaiming that they stood for women and the rights they don't have in this country? (I'm still trying to figure out what those are) Where are the women wearing 'vagina costumes' who screamed at the top of their lungs that THEY are tired of being brought down? (nothing says 'I'm a woman with no rights' than a blabbermouth sticking her face through a 'giny' that covers her from head to toe)
By the way, I've included a part of a 'NOTE' I wrote on my Facebook page here when these marches happened. I got scolded, by the way, by a few people, who promptly 'unfriended' me there, presumably over this. I wrote:
"Not once, in my entire life, did I think it necessary to riot, to put a stupid pink hat on that is supposed to resemble female anatomy, (not sure what that reasoning is, there really isn’t any...and I do know what they THINK it’s saying, but save it...it says nothing) or worse yet, to dress up in a big pink ‘giny’ costume (s’cuse me, but there’s just no other nice way to say it) with my face sticking through it, or do any other vulgar or disgusting thing to ‘make a stand’, to throw bricks at cops or other people, to break windows of Starbucks, to wear female sanitary things on my ears (gross) or to tell my 10 year old kid it was ok, and as a matter of fact, that he SHOULD burn an American Flag and then yell, “SCREW ____” Fill in the blank to whomever won the election, if it was someone that I didn’t vote for. I’ve never had the urge to scream obscenities at other people, destruct their property, or threaten them in any way. I’ve never been inclined to find an organization that would pay me to carry their cookie cutter signs (and then not even know why I was really even there) in order to simply be disruptive, for whatever their agendas were...especially if I had no true convictions of my own. I’m ashamed of, and embarrassed for, many that I see who are showing their asses."
(Some of this was directed at the rioting that was going on in some parts of the country at the time)
Here is my simple point about the Harvey Weinstein scandal and these same women...WHERE ARE THEY NOW? They screamed for women's rights, but the same ones who were on a platform then, are turning their backs on women now! What the hell!?!
Speaking of Facebook, there was a 'drive' recently for women who have been harassed or attacked at some point in their lives, to show solidarity, and how widespread it is. The idea was to simply put 'Me too' as a Facebook status. I did that, and many of my friends did, too. I had no idea about them. I am truly sorry for any of my friends who have gone through any kind of humiliation like this. But, my point is, people STILL don't want to deal with it. 2 or 3 people even acknowledged that I put 'Me too' as my status, and that's all. People still look the other way. I tried to acknowledge every one of my friends who I saw the same status from. It's important.
And, to be clear, I am not implying at ALL, that the women in the Hollywood case are completely at fault. However, circumstances between what happened out there in LaLa Land and what happens to us 'every day' women, are so different. In their cases, the women who were seeking the 'fame and fortune', put up with the terrible behavior because they were promised and bribed.
Everyday women, including me, may have been stalked, threatened, bullied, and shamed into being quiet. In my case, it would have been his word over mine, and he was a predominant man in our little town. (however, I'm sure his ridiculous friends knew, but they didn't say anything.) I was still really a little girl, as I look back now. In my teens, but innocent and naïve, and felt there was no place to turn. Nobody could be trusted.
However, the humiliation for ALL women who go through this is very real. It changes who we are, and how we deal with other things in life as we age. We learn to never trust anyone with our secret, often because when we do turn to someone in confidence, they break that trust. And, for me, they get that one shot. If they blow it, I will never open up to them again, even if they apologize.
More later...maybe.
The biggest reason, it seems, that women, some who were very young women when they had encounters with Harvey Weinstein, never said anything about what happened, is because they were driven by 'fame and fortune'...what a cliche...but that's what it was. Some have written that they 'whored themselves out'. Well, maybe. They absolutely had stars in their eyes. Many now say they did nearly unspeakable things to stay in the loop, and were promised that big things would come their way...and for many, that did happen. So, what do we call it, then? As they say, 'it is what it is'.
BUT, I have also read some interesting articles written by men who had befriended Harvey Weinstein and had watched this behavior. Although some are saying that they were simply caught up in it, in their younger years, so they looked the other way, even though they KNEW that many women were bribed and paid extremely well for the 'services' they provided for Weinstein, and they knew it was abusive and belittling behavior. However, they also realize, now that they have lived a few more years and have grown into respectable producers or writers, that they have regrets, as many of us do, as we age.
They claim that everybody knew what was going on for so many years, but because they were just as star stricken as the women, and because they accepted the gifts, expensive trips and introductions to other 'powerful' people, they just ignored the nastiness. Doesn't make it right, but at least they are owning up.
Ok...with all of that getting sorted out, here are some things that I don't understand:
People still don't want to talk about this kind of thing. There are countless women, who at some point in their lives (many that I know) have been harassed, humiliated, abused (to some degree) bullied, groped, or ____ fill in the blank here, because there are many more disgusting ways that women and girls have been manipulated.
Where are the self proclaimed 'nasty women', who proudly wore pink hats, representing female genitalia (and, yes, that IS what it represented, even though many people tried to put a spin on that and say it wasn't...eye roll...) and marched with signs proclaiming that they stood for women and the rights they don't have in this country? (I'm still trying to figure out what those are) Where are the women wearing 'vagina costumes' who screamed at the top of their lungs that THEY are tired of being brought down? (nothing says 'I'm a woman with no rights' than a blabbermouth sticking her face through a 'giny' that covers her from head to toe)
By the way, I've included a part of a 'NOTE' I wrote on my Facebook page here when these marches happened. I got scolded, by the way, by a few people, who promptly 'unfriended' me there, presumably over this. I wrote:
"Not once, in my entire life, did I think it necessary to riot, to put a stupid pink hat on that is supposed to resemble female anatomy, (not sure what that reasoning is, there really isn’t any...and I do know what they THINK it’s saying, but save it...it says nothing) or worse yet, to dress up in a big pink ‘giny’ costume (s’cuse me, but there’s just no other nice way to say it) with my face sticking through it, or do any other vulgar or disgusting thing to ‘make a stand’, to throw bricks at cops or other people, to break windows of Starbucks, to wear female sanitary things on my ears (gross) or to tell my 10 year old kid it was ok, and as a matter of fact, that he SHOULD burn an American Flag and then yell, “SCREW ____” Fill in the blank to whomever won the election, if it was someone that I didn’t vote for. I’ve never had the urge to scream obscenities at other people, destruct their property, or threaten them in any way. I’ve never been inclined to find an organization that would pay me to carry their cookie cutter signs (and then not even know why I was really even there) in order to simply be disruptive, for whatever their agendas were...especially if I had no true convictions of my own. I’m ashamed of, and embarrassed for, many that I see who are showing their asses."
(Some of this was directed at the rioting that was going on in some parts of the country at the time)
Here is my simple point about the Harvey Weinstein scandal and these same women...WHERE ARE THEY NOW? They screamed for women's rights, but the same ones who were on a platform then, are turning their backs on women now! What the hell!?!
Speaking of Facebook, there was a 'drive' recently for women who have been harassed or attacked at some point in their lives, to show solidarity, and how widespread it is. The idea was to simply put 'Me too' as a Facebook status. I did that, and many of my friends did, too. I had no idea about them. I am truly sorry for any of my friends who have gone through any kind of humiliation like this. But, my point is, people STILL don't want to deal with it. 2 or 3 people even acknowledged that I put 'Me too' as my status, and that's all. People still look the other way. I tried to acknowledge every one of my friends who I saw the same status from. It's important.
And, to be clear, I am not implying at ALL, that the women in the Hollywood case are completely at fault. However, circumstances between what happened out there in LaLa Land and what happens to us 'every day' women, are so different. In their cases, the women who were seeking the 'fame and fortune', put up with the terrible behavior because they were promised and bribed.
Everyday women, including me, may have been stalked, threatened, bullied, and shamed into being quiet. In my case, it would have been his word over mine, and he was a predominant man in our little town. (however, I'm sure his ridiculous friends knew, but they didn't say anything.) I was still really a little girl, as I look back now. In my teens, but innocent and naïve, and felt there was no place to turn. Nobody could be trusted.
However, the humiliation for ALL women who go through this is very real. It changes who we are, and how we deal with other things in life as we age. We learn to never trust anyone with our secret, often because when we do turn to someone in confidence, they break that trust. And, for me, they get that one shot. If they blow it, I will never open up to them again, even if they apologize.
More later...maybe.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
But It Won't Go Away
So...eventually I got married. 1978. Two children would follow. Both boys. Moms and dads both worked, if they could FIND work, especially in a very small town. It was a neighboring town to where I grew up. In that area, there are a lot of small communities. Nobody made a whole lot of money back then, and everybody did the very best they could with what they had.
There was a time, when my youngest was very small, that I sold Home Interior & Gifts. It was a home decorating party plan kind of thing. Anyway, one of the people I worked with and I became friends. She was older, but went to the same school I did, and I remembered her and her family. We would go to meetings together at least once a week for about two years. I confided in her, just a little, about what happened to me at the store I worked in when I was younger. She was sympathetic, and I was good with that, and trusted her with what I told her.
That kind of work didn't last long, because people just didn't spend their money on that kind of thing. I did finally go to work in a local grocery store, and my friend went to work at my husband's family's business. I would have liked to have worked there, but I guess it was never an option for me.
Well, a few years went by. This friend started to tell me things about our family's business that didn't sit right with me. It's a long story, and I can't get into it, but I can say that I had reason to believe that she and one of the part owners were doing shifty business, and were doing things they shouldn't have been doing. And, I don't just mean in business, but on a personal level as well. I was very uncomfortable with what I was learning about her relationship with the partial owner, and I tried to get my husband to trust and listen to me try to tell him what I was suspecting was going on. Months went by, and nobody took what I said seriously. Finally one day it all came to 'a head', and she did get fired. (not because of anything I said...she did this all by herself)
This is only important information to this story because she came into the grocery store right after, and blamed me for her getting fired...then, as she was leaving, she said, "Well. MAYBE I should call Mr. 'little man'. (she used his name) Threw it right up in my face...which is what I would find happened on more than one occasion with people I tried to trust with my deepest secret.
It wasn't long after this whole family business thing, that my husband kind of befriended the 'little man' and his toady friend through Ducks Unlimited. I was crushed. He even took my children to 'toadie friend's' house once or twice to swim in their pool. Didn't he remember what had happened? Yes, he did remember. But, it didn't really matter to him. I still, to this day, cannot believe it. I had needed to feel protected. I needed to have that 'soft place to fall', and I just didn't know that I was going to have to create it myself. I felt that he thought so little of the nightmare I was put through...it was HIS hand gun that I used to threaten these very men! I felt betrayed.
Sadly, after almost 15 years, the marriage ended. And, I can't say with certainly that this whole 'Little Man' shit didn't have a part to play. It may have.
*************************************************************************
What I have found, over the years, is that there are very few people you can trust with this kind of secret, because people just don't 'get it'. Some of the most important people in my life have told me that I can tell them anything. 'You can trust me', they say...but the first thing they want to know is, "What did he DO to you?" (he bought me candy and a pony, dumbass) Instead of understanding and compassion, they want to know the gory details. That's almost like asking a Soldier who's come home from war, (and trying to deal with it) if 'he killed anybody'...how ignorant. And, once that happens, they don't get another chance. I will clam up very fast if I think the person on the receiving end is not sincere. Usually, they're not. Turns out, the few people I thought I should have been able to trust the most, were the ones I could trust the least. They were the most judgmental. When I was the most vulnerable, some of the people I trusted the most just couldn't understand my humiliation. They acted like what happened was not a big deal at all. When it was probably THE one biggest thing that molded me. I had to fight myself and learn how to be the person I wanted to be.
I've even had a few of these people imply that it was my fault...really? You think I haven't beat myself up enough over the last 45 years already? And you want me to confide in you, but when I do, you tell me it was my fault and I should have done something about it? That's it? Thanks for nothing.
*************************************************************************
If you haven't discovered why I didn't tell anyone by now, I will refresh the situation a little:
Small town USA...1975. Everybody, and I do mean everybody...knew everyone's family. Who was I going to tell? I've already established why I couldn't tell my own family...remember the 'whoring around' comment? (ugh)
Who would believe me? It would have been at least a half a dozen 'prominent men', in our little community, against my word. Where was I going to go with this? What would happen if I DID tell someone? (and 'the little man' told me often that I wasn't going to tell anyone, because nobody would believe me) This was not something that was talked about, I didn't know anyone else who had gone through anything similar. If I had just told a friend (well, I did tell a few, but I also made them promise not to discuss it with anyone...and I found out years later that one friend had gone through our high school days with an alcohol problem of his own, so I'm sure HE didn't even remember what I had said) they might have just told a few more friends, and then everybody WOULD have been talking about it behind my back, but nothing would get resolved. (as it turns out, none of my friends really did know...that I know of, anyway...I was simply paranoid...that's a great place to be when you're 17)
Could I have brought them all down? All of these men who sat in that back room of that store drinking and laughing, and talking about other men's wives in the community...could I have put a stop to their disgusting behavior? Not likely. Real pillars of the community. Our beautiful but sad little town...
I still love it, and I visit often, but I still look over my shoulder.
I was already beating myself up every day. I felt humiliated, dirty, and like I wasn't worth two shits. It took years...over 40...for me to realize that I was not at fault, no matter what a few people implied.
This thing had an impact on almost every decision I ever made. How the actions of one dirty old man can change the course of somebody's life is unbelievable. I questioned everything. Was I good enough? Was I smart enough? Was I a good enough mom? Daughter? Sister? Wife? I just didn't think I could be...after all, look what I 'let' happen, way back when. I took everything anybody did to heart, and thought 'If only I could...' whatever it was...if I could just be better, then everything could be better. I now know that if I would have handled things differently at that time in my life, I might not have automatically ‘disqualified’ myself from many things I was interested in throughout my life, for fear that I would fail, because I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I could have focused and not jumped from one thing to the next. Maybe I wouldn’t have secretly beaten myself up.
This guy's daughter, up until about a year ago, was stalking me on a social website. She sent me one anonymous message that would curl your hair. I knew it was her by the content of the things she said, but she didn't use her real name (of course). She threatened me of what she'd do if she ever saw me. She spouted things that weren't true, that I had supposedly done to their family (gross) and used the most vulgar language I ever heard. (or read). I blocked her from being able to find me from her personal social media, but she kept trying, through phony profiles, and would send vulgar messages, then delete the phony profile. And she also tried to trick me into becoming her internet friend by sending me requests via the social media with phony names, or pretending to be someone else. Many times. I consider that stalking. I would have liked to have been given a chance, at one time, to explain myself...but not now. It doesn't matter any more.
I thought I had buried it for good, but it kept popping up. It never goes away. And that's why I finally wrote about it here.
It seems a little funny that this kind of experience could give you PTSD, but it can. And, it does. It can ruin relationships and can cause you to second guess yourself, every step of the way. It can cause such low self esteem that you don't believe you deserve to be happy and safe. You never truly get over it.
A high school friend whom I did tell about this later in life, contacted me not long ago and told me that she found out I 'wasn't the only one'...I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. I know it makes me feel terrible for the others.
The 'toadie' friend is gone now. Passed away several years ago. He had a very nice wife. I saw her later on sometimes, and I wondered if she was secretly glad to be able to live a normal life without a rotten cheating drunken husband. But, she is also gone now. I hope she had some pleasant years. I think she did.
The man with the little man syndrome lost his lovely wife several years ago, too. She didn't deserve to be treated like he treated her. I hope, now that he's an old man, that he's miserable. I hope he reflects on his behavior and how he dogged his family. I wish he stayed awake at night thinking about it...but I'm sure he sleeps like a baby. A baby with whisky in his bottle.
And, as I think of more things to add, I will do so.
Will I ever discuss it with anyone else? Nah...I doubt it. It's not worth the risk. But, this 'blog' venue is good. And, I invite others who've been through something similar to comment, if you'd like, and maybe start your own blog...get it off your chest.
Life is short.
Chloe
♥
There was a time, when my youngest was very small, that I sold Home Interior & Gifts. It was a home decorating party plan kind of thing. Anyway, one of the people I worked with and I became friends. She was older, but went to the same school I did, and I remembered her and her family. We would go to meetings together at least once a week for about two years. I confided in her, just a little, about what happened to me at the store I worked in when I was younger. She was sympathetic, and I was good with that, and trusted her with what I told her.
That kind of work didn't last long, because people just didn't spend their money on that kind of thing. I did finally go to work in a local grocery store, and my friend went to work at my husband's family's business. I would have liked to have worked there, but I guess it was never an option for me.
Well, a few years went by. This friend started to tell me things about our family's business that didn't sit right with me. It's a long story, and I can't get into it, but I can say that I had reason to believe that she and one of the part owners were doing shifty business, and were doing things they shouldn't have been doing. And, I don't just mean in business, but on a personal level as well. I was very uncomfortable with what I was learning about her relationship with the partial owner, and I tried to get my husband to trust and listen to me try to tell him what I was suspecting was going on. Months went by, and nobody took what I said seriously. Finally one day it all came to 'a head', and she did get fired. (not because of anything I said...she did this all by herself)
This is only important information to this story because she came into the grocery store right after, and blamed me for her getting fired...then, as she was leaving, she said, "Well. MAYBE I should call Mr. 'little man'. (she used his name) Threw it right up in my face...which is what I would find happened on more than one occasion with people I tried to trust with my deepest secret.
It wasn't long after this whole family business thing, that my husband kind of befriended the 'little man' and his toady friend through Ducks Unlimited. I was crushed. He even took my children to 'toadie friend's' house once or twice to swim in their pool. Didn't he remember what had happened? Yes, he did remember. But, it didn't really matter to him. I still, to this day, cannot believe it. I had needed to feel protected. I needed to have that 'soft place to fall', and I just didn't know that I was going to have to create it myself. I felt that he thought so little of the nightmare I was put through...it was HIS hand gun that I used to threaten these very men! I felt betrayed.
Sadly, after almost 15 years, the marriage ended. And, I can't say with certainly that this whole 'Little Man' shit didn't have a part to play. It may have.
*************************************************************************
What I have found, over the years, is that there are very few people you can trust with this kind of secret, because people just don't 'get it'. Some of the most important people in my life have told me that I can tell them anything. 'You can trust me', they say...but the first thing they want to know is, "What did he DO to you?" (he bought me candy and a pony, dumbass) Instead of understanding and compassion, they want to know the gory details. That's almost like asking a Soldier who's come home from war, (and trying to deal with it) if 'he killed anybody'...how ignorant. And, once that happens, they don't get another chance. I will clam up very fast if I think the person on the receiving end is not sincere. Usually, they're not. Turns out, the few people I thought I should have been able to trust the most, were the ones I could trust the least. They were the most judgmental. When I was the most vulnerable, some of the people I trusted the most just couldn't understand my humiliation. They acted like what happened was not a big deal at all. When it was probably THE one biggest thing that molded me. I had to fight myself and learn how to be the person I wanted to be.
I've even had a few of these people imply that it was my fault...really? You think I haven't beat myself up enough over the last 45 years already? And you want me to confide in you, but when I do, you tell me it was my fault and I should have done something about it? That's it? Thanks for nothing.
*************************************************************************
If you haven't discovered why I didn't tell anyone by now, I will refresh the situation a little:
Small town USA...1975. Everybody, and I do mean everybody...knew everyone's family. Who was I going to tell? I've already established why I couldn't tell my own family...remember the 'whoring around' comment? (ugh)
Who would believe me? It would have been at least a half a dozen 'prominent men', in our little community, against my word. Where was I going to go with this? What would happen if I DID tell someone? (and 'the little man' told me often that I wasn't going to tell anyone, because nobody would believe me) This was not something that was talked about, I didn't know anyone else who had gone through anything similar. If I had just told a friend (well, I did tell a few, but I also made them promise not to discuss it with anyone...and I found out years later that one friend had gone through our high school days with an alcohol problem of his own, so I'm sure HE didn't even remember what I had said) they might have just told a few more friends, and then everybody WOULD have been talking about it behind my back, but nothing would get resolved. (as it turns out, none of my friends really did know...that I know of, anyway...I was simply paranoid...that's a great place to be when you're 17)
Could I have brought them all down? All of these men who sat in that back room of that store drinking and laughing, and talking about other men's wives in the community...could I have put a stop to their disgusting behavior? Not likely. Real pillars of the community. Our beautiful but sad little town...
I still love it, and I visit often, but I still look over my shoulder.
I was already beating myself up every day. I felt humiliated, dirty, and like I wasn't worth two shits. It took years...over 40...for me to realize that I was not at fault, no matter what a few people implied.
This thing had an impact on almost every decision I ever made. How the actions of one dirty old man can change the course of somebody's life is unbelievable. I questioned everything. Was I good enough? Was I smart enough? Was I a good enough mom? Daughter? Sister? Wife? I just didn't think I could be...after all, look what I 'let' happen, way back when. I took everything anybody did to heart, and thought 'If only I could...' whatever it was...if I could just be better, then everything could be better. I now know that if I would have handled things differently at that time in my life, I might not have automatically ‘disqualified’ myself from many things I was interested in throughout my life, for fear that I would fail, because I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I could have focused and not jumped from one thing to the next. Maybe I wouldn’t have secretly beaten myself up.
This guy's daughter, up until about a year ago, was stalking me on a social website. She sent me one anonymous message that would curl your hair. I knew it was her by the content of the things she said, but she didn't use her real name (of course). She threatened me of what she'd do if she ever saw me. She spouted things that weren't true, that I had supposedly done to their family (gross) and used the most vulgar language I ever heard. (or read). I blocked her from being able to find me from her personal social media, but she kept trying, through phony profiles, and would send vulgar messages, then delete the phony profile. And she also tried to trick me into becoming her internet friend by sending me requests via the social media with phony names, or pretending to be someone else. Many times. I consider that stalking. I would have liked to have been given a chance, at one time, to explain myself...but not now. It doesn't matter any more.
I thought I had buried it for good, but it kept popping up. It never goes away. And that's why I finally wrote about it here.
It seems a little funny that this kind of experience could give you PTSD, but it can. And, it does. It can ruin relationships and can cause you to second guess yourself, every step of the way. It can cause such low self esteem that you don't believe you deserve to be happy and safe. You never truly get over it.
A high school friend whom I did tell about this later in life, contacted me not long ago and told me that she found out I 'wasn't the only one'...I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. I know it makes me feel terrible for the others.
The 'toadie' friend is gone now. Passed away several years ago. He had a very nice wife. I saw her later on sometimes, and I wondered if she was secretly glad to be able to live a normal life without a rotten cheating drunken husband. But, she is also gone now. I hope she had some pleasant years. I think she did.
The man with the little man syndrome lost his lovely wife several years ago, too. She didn't deserve to be treated like he treated her. I hope, now that he's an old man, that he's miserable. I hope he reflects on his behavior and how he dogged his family. I wish he stayed awake at night thinking about it...but I'm sure he sleeps like a baby. A baby with whisky in his bottle.
And, as I think of more things to add, I will do so.
Will I ever discuss it with anyone else? Nah...I doubt it. It's not worth the risk. But, this 'blog' venue is good. And, I invite others who've been through something similar to comment, if you'd like, and maybe start your own blog...get it off your chest.
Life is short.
“Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; But eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, Stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories and make peace with them.” ... Iyanla Vanzant
Find your 'Chamomile Calm'.Chloe
♥
Good God, Can't You Give It A Rest?
Wow, it's summertime, I'm 18, and having the time of my life!
Well, that is mostly true. I was working full time at the bank, had the boyfriend, and everything was pretty free and easy, as they say.
So, I continued to go with my friends often enough. We'd mostly go to the one place we liked best, but would sometimes head on down to another dance club, but we didn't really like to go that far when some of us (or all of us) had been drinking. Even with our savior DD.
And, many times, I would see that creep come in, or go prancing his 'little man image' up to the bar and just sit there like a toad, along with his toad friend. I really did feel intimidated, but I didn't want my friends to know. I was pretty sure they already did, but I didn't want to mention it, or ever have anyone talk about it.
There was another sort of 'dive' bar just on the outskirts of town that we'd hit once in awhile, and one night my girlfriends and I decided to go there, and meet up with some other people. For some reason, though, I drove there by myself, and met everybody there. The bar was busy, there was loud music, of course, and the place was packed. There was no place to sit, but we didn't care. We stood around, drinking our beer, laughing, and having a good time. If you went someplace without a date, and there was nobody to dance with, it was perfectly fine for girls to just dance with their girlfriends. We did a lot of that. I know, I know...it's corny, but I LOVED disco music...we all did. And, we never missed a chance to get out there and bump to our favorite songs.
After some time, probably about an hour, a couple of us were heading to the rest room. (oh, that beer, you know) I was the last one in our little 'duckling line', on the way to the bathroom, past the bar area, and as we were going past the bar stools, someone grabbed me around my waste and pulled me right in to him. God, I was face to face, (or his stupid laughing face to my chest, was more like it) with the dirty little man. And, that stupid grinning and giggling. I was embarrassed as hell, and was trying to wiggle away, when the boyfriend of an acquaintance was coming behind me, took my arm and led me away from him. I can't remember his name, but I was grateful, I can tell you that.
We stayed for quite awhile, and were getting ready to go. Because the parking lot was full, I had parked quite a bit away from my friends. But, it was safe, and a girl didn't really have to worry about walking to her car alone. We were going to meet up at a pizza place, as we often did, before going home. I unlocked my car, got in, and all of a sudden, there he was. Sprawled over the hood of my car, looking in the windshield at me. He reminded me of a marionette, just sort of laying limp like that. Aaaaand, he wasn't moving. He was just going to stay there. I didn't see his ass-hat friend anywhere, but I didn't see him in the bar, either, so I was hoping he just wasn't around. One of them was bad enough.
So, he's trying to persuade me to take him for a ride. Seriously? And, I'm trying to persuade him to get the hell off of my car. Finally, I got out of my car, went to the front, and actually pushed him, until he just slid right off. I kept my '72 Olds Cutless shined up and waxed to the max. I didn't know he'd slide off like he did, but once he hit the dirt, I got in my car and I left him there. (I am patting myself on the back right now) and, if he dented my car AT ALL, I would have kicked the snot out of him right there...but he didn't.
I didn't see him again at all, for months.
The place I lived in wasn't fancy, but I could afford it. It was just a mobile home, but I didn't care. I wanted to be independent, of course. Who didn't? All of my friends that I partied with after graduation had gone to college by now. I didn't go off to school, but stayed in our little town and worked at the bank. I wasn't supposed to have a dog there, but I DID have one, and someone that knew the owner of the home vouched for me, and told me he'd deal with it himself, so...all was good. This was late fall the same year I got out of school.
I was seeing the guy regularly whom I was dating, and since most of my friends had gone away, I didn't go out like I had done in the summer.
This guy was a real outdoorsman. So, I was learning to fish, and even how to deer hunt. (which wasn't my cup of tea) I learned how to handle a rifle, and I would go, just to go.
But, I had decided to confide a little in him about the 'little man'. I had been getting a lot of hang up phone calls, lots of nasty whispered worded phone calls and I am sure it was that oldest daughter I talked about earlier. So, I thought I should say something about what happened. I didn't tell him a lot, not even nearly what I've said here, but he got the idea. He asked me if I'd feel more safe if I had a way to protect myself in my home. I hadn't really thought about it before that, but I let him give me a hand gun, and I hid it in a drawer.
One night, way into winter, we went fishing with my sister and her husband. You had to go at night, sit in a shanty on a lake, and just eat junk food and drink beer. I don't even remember what we were fishing for that we went at night, but we caught fish. We stayed several hours, and got home at about 1:00 a.m.
So, he had just dropped me off. I had to work the next day, and I was tired. You know how older mobile homes were set up...the entry door on this one was directly across from the bathroom. It didn't lock very well, but where we lived, it wasn't much of an issue. There were actually two doors, but the other one didn't have steps. Most people could leave their doors unlocked then anyway. But, although I would lock it when I went to bed, I had just gotten in, and went right into the bathroom. Why I even closed the bathroom door, I don't know. I usually didn't bother, since I was there alone. But, I did, and I was getting ready for bed.
Although I didn't hear a car or see headlights, I thought I heard noises outside, and as I opened up the bathroom door, there, standing in the door of my house, he was. With his sidekick behind him, on the metal stairs that led from the ground. I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought for sure I was in for a nightmare. I said something real creative and original, like, "What the hell are you doing here?!?" Laughing, he tried to take a step toward me. And because we were kind of face to face, I reached out and pushed him. He grabbed the doorknob, and that's when I realized how stinkin' drunk he was. And, oh, my God...he was drunk. His weight pushed the door out on its hinges, and he went with it, tumbling to the ground outside, in the snow. I went and got the hand gun from my drawer, and I met him in the doorway as he tried to stumble back in. (I could not make this crap up if I wanted to.) I held the gun up and I told them, "If you don't leave right now, I am going to shoot you both." They did turn around, and they did leave, and as they were leaving, I said, "If you ever bother me again, I will kill you."
I sat up, shaking, for the rest of the night.
And neither of them ever bothered me again.
But, I gave the gun back. I scared myself that night.
Break time.
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Well, that is mostly true. I was working full time at the bank, had the boyfriend, and everything was pretty free and easy, as they say.
So, I continued to go with my friends often enough. We'd mostly go to the one place we liked best, but would sometimes head on down to another dance club, but we didn't really like to go that far when some of us (or all of us) had been drinking. Even with our savior DD.
And, many times, I would see that creep come in, or go prancing his 'little man image' up to the bar and just sit there like a toad, along with his toad friend. I really did feel intimidated, but I didn't want my friends to know. I was pretty sure they already did, but I didn't want to mention it, or ever have anyone talk about it.
There was another sort of 'dive' bar just on the outskirts of town that we'd hit once in awhile, and one night my girlfriends and I decided to go there, and meet up with some other people. For some reason, though, I drove there by myself, and met everybody there. The bar was busy, there was loud music, of course, and the place was packed. There was no place to sit, but we didn't care. We stood around, drinking our beer, laughing, and having a good time. If you went someplace without a date, and there was nobody to dance with, it was perfectly fine for girls to just dance with their girlfriends. We did a lot of that. I know, I know...it's corny, but I LOVED disco music...we all did. And, we never missed a chance to get out there and bump to our favorite songs.
After some time, probably about an hour, a couple of us were heading to the rest room. (oh, that beer, you know) I was the last one in our little 'duckling line', on the way to the bathroom, past the bar area, and as we were going past the bar stools, someone grabbed me around my waste and pulled me right in to him. God, I was face to face, (or his stupid laughing face to my chest, was more like it) with the dirty little man. And, that stupid grinning and giggling. I was embarrassed as hell, and was trying to wiggle away, when the boyfriend of an acquaintance was coming behind me, took my arm and led me away from him. I can't remember his name, but I was grateful, I can tell you that.
We stayed for quite awhile, and were getting ready to go. Because the parking lot was full, I had parked quite a bit away from my friends. But, it was safe, and a girl didn't really have to worry about walking to her car alone. We were going to meet up at a pizza place, as we often did, before going home. I unlocked my car, got in, and all of a sudden, there he was. Sprawled over the hood of my car, looking in the windshield at me. He reminded me of a marionette, just sort of laying limp like that. Aaaaand, he wasn't moving. He was just going to stay there. I didn't see his ass-hat friend anywhere, but I didn't see him in the bar, either, so I was hoping he just wasn't around. One of them was bad enough.
So, he's trying to persuade me to take him for a ride. Seriously? And, I'm trying to persuade him to get the hell off of my car. Finally, I got out of my car, went to the front, and actually pushed him, until he just slid right off. I kept my '72 Olds Cutless shined up and waxed to the max. I didn't know he'd slide off like he did, but once he hit the dirt, I got in my car and I left him there. (I am patting myself on the back right now) and, if he dented my car AT ALL, I would have kicked the snot out of him right there...but he didn't.
I didn't see him again at all, for months.
The place I lived in wasn't fancy, but I could afford it. It was just a mobile home, but I didn't care. I wanted to be independent, of course. Who didn't? All of my friends that I partied with after graduation had gone to college by now. I didn't go off to school, but stayed in our little town and worked at the bank. I wasn't supposed to have a dog there, but I DID have one, and someone that knew the owner of the home vouched for me, and told me he'd deal with it himself, so...all was good. This was late fall the same year I got out of school.
I was seeing the guy regularly whom I was dating, and since most of my friends had gone away, I didn't go out like I had done in the summer.
This guy was a real outdoorsman. So, I was learning to fish, and even how to deer hunt. (which wasn't my cup of tea) I learned how to handle a rifle, and I would go, just to go.
But, I had decided to confide a little in him about the 'little man'. I had been getting a lot of hang up phone calls, lots of nasty whispered worded phone calls and I am sure it was that oldest daughter I talked about earlier. So, I thought I should say something about what happened. I didn't tell him a lot, not even nearly what I've said here, but he got the idea. He asked me if I'd feel more safe if I had a way to protect myself in my home. I hadn't really thought about it before that, but I let him give me a hand gun, and I hid it in a drawer.
One night, way into winter, we went fishing with my sister and her husband. You had to go at night, sit in a shanty on a lake, and just eat junk food and drink beer. I don't even remember what we were fishing for that we went at night, but we caught fish. We stayed several hours, and got home at about 1:00 a.m.
So, he had just dropped me off. I had to work the next day, and I was tired. You know how older mobile homes were set up...the entry door on this one was directly across from the bathroom. It didn't lock very well, but where we lived, it wasn't much of an issue. There were actually two doors, but the other one didn't have steps. Most people could leave their doors unlocked then anyway. But, although I would lock it when I went to bed, I had just gotten in, and went right into the bathroom. Why I even closed the bathroom door, I don't know. I usually didn't bother, since I was there alone. But, I did, and I was getting ready for bed.
Although I didn't hear a car or see headlights, I thought I heard noises outside, and as I opened up the bathroom door, there, standing in the door of my house, he was. With his sidekick behind him, on the metal stairs that led from the ground. I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought for sure I was in for a nightmare. I said something real creative and original, like, "What the hell are you doing here?!?" Laughing, he tried to take a step toward me. And because we were kind of face to face, I reached out and pushed him. He grabbed the doorknob, and that's when I realized how stinkin' drunk he was. And, oh, my God...he was drunk. His weight pushed the door out on its hinges, and he went with it, tumbling to the ground outside, in the snow. I went and got the hand gun from my drawer, and I met him in the doorway as he tried to stumble back in. (I could not make this crap up if I wanted to.) I held the gun up and I told them, "If you don't leave right now, I am going to shoot you both." They did turn around, and they did leave, and as they were leaving, I said, "If you ever bother me again, I will kill you."
I sat up, shaking, for the rest of the night.
And neither of them ever bothered me again.
But, I gave the gun back. I scared myself that night.
Break time.
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Sunday, March 2, 2014
Getting Thrown Under The Bus
One evening that late winter, I was planning on heading to a friend's house who lived in a neighboring town. Our school district was pretty spread out, and a couple of the small schools consolidated with ours. She had graduated a few years ahead of me, but we were good friends and had taken some classes together. She was home from college, and I hadn't seen her in a long time. It was a school night for me, so I wasn't going to be gone long, but I did want to see her, so I left after supper to go spend a few hours with her.
As I was driving my car through town, and past the store where I worked, the 'little man' was outside there, and when he saw me, he began frantically waving his arms at me. Like an idiot I turned around and went back to see if something was wrong.
He came over to my car and said that his wife was up near their cabin (I had no idea where that was, but I knew it was on the way to where my friend lived) and she was having car trouble. He wanted to know if I could give him a ride there, and he'd get her car going and would bring her home. I questioned him, but just a little, and decided it was the right thing to do.
Being winter, it was already dark, but I knew the road well. It wasn't snowing or icy or anything, and as we rounded some of the big curves that got out of town, I asked him where exactly his wife was. He started to act almost a little nervous and said that he might not have been exactly truthful. I slowed my car and was going to find a place to turn around, when he moved over and tried to get just a little too friendly. I felt instantly sick, and just at that moment, a car was coming up the road from the same direction we had just come. He said, 'SHIT! It's her!' It wasn't until that moment that I realized exactly what was happening. He actually thought he was going to get me to go to his cabin with him. He made the story up about his wife having car trouble, and I bought it.
I guess he recognized the headlights and must have been able to see the grill of her car. I really don't know how the little bastard knew it was his wife, but as I was slowed to almost a stop already, he opened the car door and rolled right out. Right out into the ditch, I think. And I drove on.
I was so worked up, not knowing what really hit me, it all happened so fast, and I was trying to process it all. Shaking like a leaf, I went out to a turnaround spot by the lake, and I sat there by myself and thought about everything I had been through with that damn store for the last 10 months or so. I thought about how stupid I was for thinking I could handle this jackass by myself, I thought about how scared I was at this very moment. I was both relieved and frightened half to death over what had just happened, but I knew that I had to go to work the next morning and that I would quit my job there.
But the 'fun' was just beginning.
I'm starting to have a little panic attack here, so I will be back. And, if you've read this, it may be edited later, so feel free to read this page (and the others, as well, as they may be edited) over again.
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Remember in the beginning when I said I got grounded because I 'looked guilty'? Well, I did. That happened sometimes. But I think it's because my Dad just didn't know how to relate to me...I can't speak for my siblings, but I don't think he knew what else to do. And this night was no exception.
I got home without ever going to see my friend who was home from college. Of course, that was a million years before cell phones, so I just went on home after deciding what I was going to do about the situation that I thought might have just gotten much worse.
I drove up to the house and went in. Dad was standing there with his usual 'Dad Face' on, and I knew that I was in trouble, but I wasn't sure why, yet. (it never dawned on me to tell the truth, at this point)
"Where the hell were you?" were the first words out of his mouth, and I was never one to do very well under pressure, so I started to say I had gone to my friend's house, when he said, "And be VERY careful what you say, because I called there, and you never showed up."
Oh, great...gulp.
The next thing he said will stick with me for the rest of my life. It stung so hard, that I will never get over it, and I will never forget it, if I live to be 120.
He said, in his badass 'Dad Manner', "If I find out you've been out whoring around"...after that it was just blahblahblah because the 'whoring around' was all that I heard. I know I mumbled something like, "I wasn't doing that"...but it didn't matter. I was numb. Let me point out that I am not blaming anyone but myself for my decision not to tell anybody. I really don't know what would have happened if I did tell him right then and there. And, deep down, I know my dad didn't mean anything by what he said, and I know he forgot about it right after he said it. I also knew that I would NEVER forget that he said it. And, I also knew then that I would never tell him OR my mom what had really happened.
'Whoring around'. My God, I hated the sound of that, and I still can't believe he said it to me, especially when I was trying to DEFEND myself this whole time. I was trying to protect everyone involved, and it backfired. And, all I knew for sure was that my Dad thought I'd been 'whoring around'...and that I was grounded. Did that mean he thought I WAS a whore? I really didn't know. Those words make me cringe yet today.
Let me just add here that I think the world of my Dad, and I always tried to win his approval. It was hard to do, or maybe I just thought it was, because he didn't give 'kuddos' much...to anyone. I know now that I read him wrong. He did so much for all of us, in his own 'Dad way', to show that he loved us. I'm not raggin' on him at all. He did say things he didn't mean, and he used some pretty colorful language sometimes. He did the best with what he knew, which is what we all do. He just had trouble relating to his kids...but got much better in later years. As adults we all relate to dad very well. And he to us.
So, the next morning I got up and ready, and I went in to the store at the time I normally would, and I got another surprise. I have no idea what was said between 'him' and his wife that night, but I can imagine that their short car ride home was not pleasant.
When I got there, the wife was there, waiting for me, and we had a little chat. When I first saw her, I didn't know what to expect to happen, but she started talking. She told me about how she would get dropped off by him from a date when they were young, and many times she'd watch him get in the car with another girl, and how she'd gotten 'knocked up' young, and they got married. She told me about how she'd lie awake time and time again waiting for him to come home, and when he did, he'd smell of booze, and he'd want to have sex and he'd laugh and think it was funny. (My God, why was she TELLING me this? Why wouldn't she just SHUT UP? I wanted to slither out the same way I came in...) I stood there and I listened, for what seemed like hours, but it was probably less than 10 minutes. I didn't say anything.
Then she asked me something that made me practically keel over, and then I knew I had been thrown under the bus. She said, "Do you love him?" I said, "What? NO!" (I am shuddering just thinking about that!)
I wanted to tell her at that moment that I had to push him away and off of me for months, that I smelled that nasty booze breath that she spoke of, and that she was married to a pig! I wanted her to know what a nice person she was, and that I felt SORRY for her! I wanted her to know that in my mind I begged her not to go places, but to stay there while I was working there, so he'd leave me the hell alone!
But, instead, I simply told her that I wouldn't be coming back.
As I walked out, I saw him standing there, like a little boy that had just crapped his pants, and he said, "It's a bad situation." Yeah. No shit, ass-clown.
Well, some time went on, and after a few weeks I finally got the courage to come out of my room when dad was home. He said something like he knew I must've run into friends that night, and it wasn't late when I'd gotten home, and so, after these two weeks, I wasn't grounded anymore. (big deal)
I still couldn't tell my parents what had happened. But, I thought they must have already known, by the 'whore' comment my dad made a few weeks earlier. I thought everybody knew, remember?
But, oh, there is still so much more fun ahead...this story doesn't end here. I will add more, but not tonight.
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So, after that morning, I was shook up and bewildered for a long time. I never did find out what was said about being in my car, but I can only assume that 'the little man' made his wife believe that I was some kind of 'vixen', with magic powers that made him just have to have me. (I'd chuckle right here, but it's not funny)
But, as I went to school, the very next day, I soon understood that it was me who was made to be the 'aggressor' in what happened. I mentioned that they had a daughter who was just about 3 years younger than me. Every single day thereafter, she would hunt me down in the halls of school, at some point in the day, and say, under her breath, but as close as she could get to me, 'Slut'. Every. Single. Day. Once she met me in an uncrowded hall as I was making my way to the office for something, and she started in with, "And, YOU! Coming to work at my dad's store in your little cheerleading uniform...you slut!" (Ummm...yeah...I did that. But, her dad's a pig, and that's MY fault?)
So, every day from then until I graduated in June, I had to try to dodge her. I did my best to steer clear if I ever saw her. It was just not something I needed, on top of what had already happened. If my senior year wasn't hard enough, dealing with the 'little man', the remainder of my Senior Year in High School was terrible for me. Terrible.
After graduation, I went right to work at a local bank. Then, my car started getting vandalized. There were just a few employees, and we'd park our cars in the back, and go in the back door. Where the store people lived was just a block or so away from the bank. Several times, going out to my car after work, I'd see where someone had taken a bar of soap and written dirty things on my car. I knew it was this same daughter, and probably her cousins, who were the same age as she was. (I was thankful it was just soap, but...still)
(Several years later, I saw one of these cousins of hers, whom I barely knew or even recognized, in a bathroom in a bar. By this time, I was married. But, the cousin cornered me and started sort of pushing me and getting mouthy. By the grace of God, someone else came in, and I slipped out. Seems like I had to look over my shoulder no matter where I went. For years)
But, as I was working, and was now seeing someone who would later be my husband, I was ready to move out of the folks' home. So, I found a little place to rent, and my dog and I moved in there. This is important to know for a future incident. By the way, naturally, the obscene phone calls in the middle of the night were relentless during this time. I'm sure it was that daughter and her 'pals'.
Now, it's important to put in here what happened following my graduation. In the state I lived in, in 1976, the legal age to buy and consume alcohol was 18 years old. So, my friends and I did some of that. There was a particular place that we liked to go. Back then, there were local bands that would play, and we went out quite a bit to dance. There were about 4 or 5 of us that would all go together, and we'd usually all go in one car, and had a driver who didn't drink much. If whoever owned the car we drove that night had too much to drink, our 'DD' would just get us all home safely in that car.
But, it didn't take long at all for me to see 'the little man' and his crony 'wienie joke' friend sitting at the bar in that dance club that my friends and I frequented. I mean, this was a place for YOUNG people to go, so those men were clearly out of place. But, they were there for one reason. And, it was impossible to get to the bathroom without walking past them, and with all the beer we drank back then, going to the bathroom really couldn't be avoided. So, there would be grabbing, laughing, taunts...the same old shit that had happened months ago before I left the store. But, right out in PUBLIC!
And, I found it odd that he didn't learn his lesson. But, there he was, drunk, late at night, while his wife was home.
Break time.
And then a brand new page.
As I was driving my car through town, and past the store where I worked, the 'little man' was outside there, and when he saw me, he began frantically waving his arms at me. Like an idiot I turned around and went back to see if something was wrong.
He came over to my car and said that his wife was up near their cabin (I had no idea where that was, but I knew it was on the way to where my friend lived) and she was having car trouble. He wanted to know if I could give him a ride there, and he'd get her car going and would bring her home. I questioned him, but just a little, and decided it was the right thing to do.
Being winter, it was already dark, but I knew the road well. It wasn't snowing or icy or anything, and as we rounded some of the big curves that got out of town, I asked him where exactly his wife was. He started to act almost a little nervous and said that he might not have been exactly truthful. I slowed my car and was going to find a place to turn around, when he moved over and tried to get just a little too friendly. I felt instantly sick, and just at that moment, a car was coming up the road from the same direction we had just come. He said, 'SHIT! It's her!' It wasn't until that moment that I realized exactly what was happening. He actually thought he was going to get me to go to his cabin with him. He made the story up about his wife having car trouble, and I bought it.
I guess he recognized the headlights and must have been able to see the grill of her car. I really don't know how the little bastard knew it was his wife, but as I was slowed to almost a stop already, he opened the car door and rolled right out. Right out into the ditch, I think. And I drove on.
I was so worked up, not knowing what really hit me, it all happened so fast, and I was trying to process it all. Shaking like a leaf, I went out to a turnaround spot by the lake, and I sat there by myself and thought about everything I had been through with that damn store for the last 10 months or so. I thought about how stupid I was for thinking I could handle this jackass by myself, I thought about how scared I was at this very moment. I was both relieved and frightened half to death over what had just happened, but I knew that I had to go to work the next morning and that I would quit my job there.
But the 'fun' was just beginning.
I'm starting to have a little panic attack here, so I will be back. And, if you've read this, it may be edited later, so feel free to read this page (and the others, as well, as they may be edited) over again.
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Remember in the beginning when I said I got grounded because I 'looked guilty'? Well, I did. That happened sometimes. But I think it's because my Dad just didn't know how to relate to me...I can't speak for my siblings, but I don't think he knew what else to do. And this night was no exception.
I got home without ever going to see my friend who was home from college. Of course, that was a million years before cell phones, so I just went on home after deciding what I was going to do about the situation that I thought might have just gotten much worse.
I drove up to the house and went in. Dad was standing there with his usual 'Dad Face' on, and I knew that I was in trouble, but I wasn't sure why, yet. (it never dawned on me to tell the truth, at this point)
"Where the hell were you?" were the first words out of his mouth, and I was never one to do very well under pressure, so I started to say I had gone to my friend's house, when he said, "And be VERY careful what you say, because I called there, and you never showed up."
Oh, great...gulp.
The next thing he said will stick with me for the rest of my life. It stung so hard, that I will never get over it, and I will never forget it, if I live to be 120.
He said, in his badass 'Dad Manner', "If I find out you've been out whoring around"...after that it was just blahblahblah because the 'whoring around' was all that I heard. I know I mumbled something like, "I wasn't doing that"...but it didn't matter. I was numb. Let me point out that I am not blaming anyone but myself for my decision not to tell anybody. I really don't know what would have happened if I did tell him right then and there. And, deep down, I know my dad didn't mean anything by what he said, and I know he forgot about it right after he said it. I also knew that I would NEVER forget that he said it. And, I also knew then that I would never tell him OR my mom what had really happened.
'Whoring around'. My God, I hated the sound of that, and I still can't believe he said it to me, especially when I was trying to DEFEND myself this whole time. I was trying to protect everyone involved, and it backfired. And, all I knew for sure was that my Dad thought I'd been 'whoring around'...and that I was grounded. Did that mean he thought I WAS a whore? I really didn't know. Those words make me cringe yet today.
Let me just add here that I think the world of my Dad, and I always tried to win his approval. It was hard to do, or maybe I just thought it was, because he didn't give 'kuddos' much...to anyone. I know now that I read him wrong. He did so much for all of us, in his own 'Dad way', to show that he loved us. I'm not raggin' on him at all. He did say things he didn't mean, and he used some pretty colorful language sometimes. He did the best with what he knew, which is what we all do. He just had trouble relating to his kids...but got much better in later years. As adults we all relate to dad very well. And he to us.
So, the next morning I got up and ready, and I went in to the store at the time I normally would, and I got another surprise. I have no idea what was said between 'him' and his wife that night, but I can imagine that their short car ride home was not pleasant.
When I got there, the wife was there, waiting for me, and we had a little chat. When I first saw her, I didn't know what to expect to happen, but she started talking. She told me about how she would get dropped off by him from a date when they were young, and many times she'd watch him get in the car with another girl, and how she'd gotten 'knocked up' young, and they got married. She told me about how she'd lie awake time and time again waiting for him to come home, and when he did, he'd smell of booze, and he'd want to have sex and he'd laugh and think it was funny. (My God, why was she TELLING me this? Why wouldn't she just SHUT UP? I wanted to slither out the same way I came in...) I stood there and I listened, for what seemed like hours, but it was probably less than 10 minutes. I didn't say anything.
Then she asked me something that made me practically keel over, and then I knew I had been thrown under the bus. She said, "Do you love him?" I said, "What? NO!" (I am shuddering just thinking about that!)
I wanted to tell her at that moment that I had to push him away and off of me for months, that I smelled that nasty booze breath that she spoke of, and that she was married to a pig! I wanted her to know what a nice person she was, and that I felt SORRY for her! I wanted her to know that in my mind I begged her not to go places, but to stay there while I was working there, so he'd leave me the hell alone!
But, instead, I simply told her that I wouldn't be coming back.
As I walked out, I saw him standing there, like a little boy that had just crapped his pants, and he said, "It's a bad situation." Yeah. No shit, ass-clown.
Well, some time went on, and after a few weeks I finally got the courage to come out of my room when dad was home. He said something like he knew I must've run into friends that night, and it wasn't late when I'd gotten home, and so, after these two weeks, I wasn't grounded anymore. (big deal)
I still couldn't tell my parents what had happened. But, I thought they must have already known, by the 'whore' comment my dad made a few weeks earlier. I thought everybody knew, remember?
But, oh, there is still so much more fun ahead...this story doesn't end here. I will add more, but not tonight.
*************************************************************************
So, after that morning, I was shook up and bewildered for a long time. I never did find out what was said about being in my car, but I can only assume that 'the little man' made his wife believe that I was some kind of 'vixen', with magic powers that made him just have to have me. (I'd chuckle right here, but it's not funny)
But, as I went to school, the very next day, I soon understood that it was me who was made to be the 'aggressor' in what happened. I mentioned that they had a daughter who was just about 3 years younger than me. Every single day thereafter, she would hunt me down in the halls of school, at some point in the day, and say, under her breath, but as close as she could get to me, 'Slut'. Every. Single. Day. Once she met me in an uncrowded hall as I was making my way to the office for something, and she started in with, "And, YOU! Coming to work at my dad's store in your little cheerleading uniform...you slut!" (Ummm...yeah...I did that. But, her dad's a pig, and that's MY fault?)
So, every day from then until I graduated in June, I had to try to dodge her. I did my best to steer clear if I ever saw her. It was just not something I needed, on top of what had already happened. If my senior year wasn't hard enough, dealing with the 'little man', the remainder of my Senior Year in High School was terrible for me. Terrible.
After graduation, I went right to work at a local bank. Then, my car started getting vandalized. There were just a few employees, and we'd park our cars in the back, and go in the back door. Where the store people lived was just a block or so away from the bank. Several times, going out to my car after work, I'd see where someone had taken a bar of soap and written dirty things on my car. I knew it was this same daughter, and probably her cousins, who were the same age as she was. (I was thankful it was just soap, but...still)
(Several years later, I saw one of these cousins of hers, whom I barely knew or even recognized, in a bathroom in a bar. By this time, I was married. But, the cousin cornered me and started sort of pushing me and getting mouthy. By the grace of God, someone else came in, and I slipped out. Seems like I had to look over my shoulder no matter where I went. For years)
But, as I was working, and was now seeing someone who would later be my husband, I was ready to move out of the folks' home. So, I found a little place to rent, and my dog and I moved in there. This is important to know for a future incident. By the way, naturally, the obscene phone calls in the middle of the night were relentless during this time. I'm sure it was that daughter and her 'pals'.
Now, it's important to put in here what happened following my graduation. In the state I lived in, in 1976, the legal age to buy and consume alcohol was 18 years old. So, my friends and I did some of that. There was a particular place that we liked to go. Back then, there were local bands that would play, and we went out quite a bit to dance. There were about 4 or 5 of us that would all go together, and we'd usually all go in one car, and had a driver who didn't drink much. If whoever owned the car we drove that night had too much to drink, our 'DD' would just get us all home safely in that car.
But, it didn't take long at all for me to see 'the little man' and his crony 'wienie joke' friend sitting at the bar in that dance club that my friends and I frequented. I mean, this was a place for YOUNG people to go, so those men were clearly out of place. But, they were there for one reason. And, it was impossible to get to the bathroom without walking past them, and with all the beer we drank back then, going to the bathroom really couldn't be avoided. So, there would be grabbing, laughing, taunts...the same old shit that had happened months ago before I left the store. But, right out in PUBLIC!
And, I found it odd that he didn't learn his lesson. But, there he was, drunk, late at night, while his wife was home.
Break time.
And then a brand new page.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Booze, Stale Cigarettes, and Wrigley Spearmint Gum
Because several months had gone by since I first started working at the store, I was pretty comfortable and trusting of the people around me. Except for the unusual instance that one of the 'old men from the back room', thinking he would try to be cute and shock me with an off colored joke, I didn't have any problems. I liked helping people who would come into the store, and loved getting to know them.
I remember the men blatantly drinking and laughing, thinking everything they did was so funny...when they were actually pretty juvenile acting, even to a 17 year old. Once, the owner of the store asked me if I'd make them a sign to hang in the back room that read, 'Hog Style, Dog Style'...and I know I was pretty naive, but I didn't know what they wanted that for, or even what it meant. But I knew it was very inappropriate. They made their own sign, I might add.
But, for the most part, I wasn't bothered by the ridiculous behavior, because I stuck to myself. There was always something to do there. I never once thought any of them would hurt me or anything like that.
Sometimes the kid that was so nice to me would stop in the store to say hello, and maybe we'd make a plan for that evening. A few other friends would stop in once and awhile to chat for a minute, and I liked that.
But, late one hot afternoon in about August, the other guy that worked at the store for the summer came up front and told me that the boss wanted to see me in the back room. I honestly didn't think a thing of it, even though it was a little unusual. As I made my way back behind where the shoes were stacked and stored, down a cement ramp and around a corner, I saw 'him' sort of half laying on a little couch that was back there. His eyes were closed, his tongue was sticking out of his half smiling mouth, his FLY was open, and yes...you guessed it. 'IT' was also sticking out. WHAT THE HELL?
In total disgust, I turned and left that back room to howls of laughter.
Let it be known that I'm a little nervous writing this, because I've never written much about it or talked to anyone about it. As I've gotten older, I have finally told a few people about some of these events, but not in much detail. So, um...yeah...this is a little creepy for me to do. No...it's a LOT creepy...
I need a little break here.
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When the 'wienie incident' happened, I didn't know what to do about it. So, after he jokingly said he didn't mean anything by it, I decided to just let it go. I did tell my young man friend, sort of, but I made him promise not to tell anyone about it. However, I was asked by my boss not to let him come around the store anymore. I'm not sure even now why that was.
School started in early September, and I was now a senior in high school. I had already worked it out in school, so that I would go to work at the store in the mornings, and then go to school in the afternoon. I had all the credits I needed, and I still wanted to make a little money.
I was a cheerleader, so many days I'd wear my uniform to work in the morning, then would already have it on for 'game day'. We all wore our cheerleading uniforms on every game day, and the football and basketball players still dressed up nice on those days, too. They even wore ties.
Before I move on, I think it's important to describe this man a little bit. You know what the Napoleon Complex is, right? This was the classic 'Little Man Syndrome'. He was about in his late 30s, I guess, at the time, and...short. But, although small in stature, he had a big mouth...naturally. Laughed all the time, and actually did have a pretty good sense of humor. I think people liked him, but he did over compensate by trying to be a 'big man'...drank a lot, smoked a lot, and chewed a lot of Wrigley Spearmint Gum. (I found this out in a hurry, as he on more than one occasion tried to 'manhandle' me and hold me up against a wall) However, to my knowledge, nobody in town but his 'crony pals' knew what a lowlife he was. And I'm sure, for as much time as most of those men spent in the back room of that store, they knew.
I was once standing at the end of a counter and as it was a game day, I had my cheerleading uniform on, and was heading to school in just a bit. He came up behind me, and I wasn't sure at first what was happening, but he pressed up the backside of me. As I started to try to move, he just laughed and kind of moved out of the way so I could then move. He held his hands up and said, 'Sorry'...but was grinning like an idiot.
This is kind of how this started. Nothing that I felt I couldn't handle, but...as the fall grew into winter, more and more of these kinds of incidences happened.
You have to know that this is the area for which I do not apologize for making it as subtle as I can, and for not getting graphic. What happened in these months of my life are something I do not want to fully discuss, and I think I can get my story out without doing that.
I remember being at a basketball game, and my cheerleading squad would go out onto the gym floor to do a 'pom pom' dance routine. The 'little man' would sit up on the stage across from the bleachers with his crony friends, all of whom I knew, or at least I knew their families. (my own Dad would sit there sometimes. I guess men who sort thought they were important, or were on the school board often sat there) Some of these men would have kids that I went to school with. (Remember now, I am in high school.) In one routine in particular, some of the steps would have us turning around and facing the stage, putting our back to the audience in the bleachers, before doing a few more steps and turning around again to face the bleachers. As I would do that, the 'little man' would be staring right at me, with his tongue hanging out. Then he'd be laughing. Pig.
By the way, I had made it very clear that I didn't like what he was doing when we would be alone at the store, but he usually just laughed and left me alone. But, he was a persistent little jackass, I'll give him that.
Once, his wife, who was a VERY lovely person...sweet, adorably cute...not overly bright, (and I'm not saying that to be mean, at all. She just wasn't.) but was very nice and kind...had made plans with her friend to go skiing. Her friend showed up, but it was snowing quite hard, and they considered not going. I remember thinking, 'Please don't go, please don't go', hoping she'd stay there so her husband would stay away from me. But she went.
Speaking of his wife, she had to have a hysterectomy at one point. I'm pretty sure this is not long before I left there, but here's what happened:
I knew some nice folks who owned a small motel just outside of town, and sometimes they'd ask me if I could 'babysit' it while they went out of town for the day. I knew them pretty well, and they trusted me there. The wife showed me how to use their switchboard, and I liked it. I really loved them, too. This time was winter, and it wasn't going to be busy there...it must have been a weekend day, because I wasn't in school. It could have been Christmas Break.
So, the store owner's wife went in to have her surgery. I had gotten there early to watch the motel and was spending the day at their office, when a car comes up the drive, and in comes the 'little man'. Giggling like always, like everything he did was so damn cute, he suggests I give him a key to a room, then come and meet up with him there. What the hell?!? Was he freakin' KIDDING? As if he were a 12 year old boy, I finally got him to leave there, and go to the hospital to see his wife...but guess what? On the way back, here he comes again! I didn't know when the motel owners would be back, so I did get him to leave and go home to his kids. What an ass.
It was constant badgering and chasing.
He pushed me up against a wall in a dark corner once, and that's when the distinct stench of stale cigarettes, yesterday's booze, and Wrigley Spearmint Gum made an impact. I will never forget that messed up smell. I feel that I was relatively lucky in my persuading him to leave me alone in most cases. But, he would say disgusting things to me that I didn't even know the meaning of. (even now I blush just thinking about it) I don't know if it was a shock value he was going for, or what was going on in his pea brain, but I sure did get an unwanted education.
So, believe me when I say I felt that I could no longer handle the situation. I would decide that I had to quit the job, even though by now I had bought that car that I wanted so badly, and would have to pay for it. It was my first loan, and my dad co-signed for it, and there is no way I was going to have him asking me why I couldn't pay for my car. Besides, I'd have to tell him why I quit, because I couldn't think of any reason that would have been a good excuse TO quit. So, each time I decided I would have to bite the bullet and just quit, and figure out the car thing later, the 'little man' would apologize and leave me alone for awhile.
Then, as always, it would start all over, and his filthy little hands would try to start groping up my skirt, or he'd have me up against a wall...I know, it's sickening. I can hardly even write these things.
I just remembered what I wanted to say about the guy that I dated for a while that wasn't so nice to me...remember him? Well, he came home from college on a long weekend that winter, and I'm guessing it was around the time of the hysterectomy/motel ordeal. We had broken up long ago, but were going out...I don't even know why. (probably because I felt like, being the loser I was, I didn't deserve better) I don't even remember where we went, probably just a movie, but were talking on the way home. He implied that I had something 'going on' with the guy at the store...WHAT? Did he seriously THINK that? And, where on earth did he come up with THAT conclusion, and where on earth did he hear about this? I tried to rationally talk to him about it, but that was impossible. He was somewhat belligerent, and thought he knew it all, and I couldn't wait to get out of his car. I never saw him again. Not ever.
So, at that very moment, in my own little rationale, I decided that everybody must know.
Now, this is probably the thing that made the most impact on me thus far. I was sure, just absolutely certain, that everybody I knew, knew about this. I just knew that they were talking about it behind my back. I thought that people could just look at me, and they could tell I was being harassed by this older, married guy. All of the town's people knew him, and everybody knew me and my family. I just knew that everybody that had morning coffee together at the local diner were talking about me. I just knew my friends at school were laughing when I wasn't around, and that their parents knew about it. And, I just knew all the teachers knew. I thought that everybody could tell by just looking at me.
I didn't go to parties, I didn't drink, I didn't really go anywhere but to ball games. To be very honest, I just didn't fit in anywhere. For awhile I thought I did, but when I look back, I see that I really didn't. I missed out on a lot because of what happened. I felt so dirty and humiliated. And I just knew everybody else knew. And, at the same time, because I didn't know how to stop it, I felt kind of...stuck.
Actually, a lifelong 'friend', someone who I've known since we were 5 years old, who went back and forth with me to each others' homes all through growing up, and who has been what I'd consider a friend, recently told me via social media that she's despised me since we were in Kindergarten, and that I was a bitch, even then...can Kindergarteners even BE bitches?...and that I am such a nothin' compared to her, and how she is so much better than me...she's probably right about that. (Maybe that is the real reason I never even got asked to a party. I wouldn't have gone, because I knew my Dad would have found out, but it would have been nice to be asked...just once.) This was all because we are political opposites. But, as I recall things that happened during that time in my life, I realize that anything is possible. Even now, it goes through my head that maybe she is talking about THIS.
I've struggled all of my life with feeling like I'm judged. I must walk around with a target somewhere on me.
I know what you're thinking...'Why didn't you quit that job? Why didn't you TELL someone?'
I will dedicate a whole page to that.
I remember the men blatantly drinking and laughing, thinking everything they did was so funny...when they were actually pretty juvenile acting, even to a 17 year old. Once, the owner of the store asked me if I'd make them a sign to hang in the back room that read, 'Hog Style, Dog Style'...and I know I was pretty naive, but I didn't know what they wanted that for, or even what it meant. But I knew it was very inappropriate. They made their own sign, I might add.
But, for the most part, I wasn't bothered by the ridiculous behavior, because I stuck to myself. There was always something to do there. I never once thought any of them would hurt me or anything like that.
Sometimes the kid that was so nice to me would stop in the store to say hello, and maybe we'd make a plan for that evening. A few other friends would stop in once and awhile to chat for a minute, and I liked that.
But, late one hot afternoon in about August, the other guy that worked at the store for the summer came up front and told me that the boss wanted to see me in the back room. I honestly didn't think a thing of it, even though it was a little unusual. As I made my way back behind where the shoes were stacked and stored, down a cement ramp and around a corner, I saw 'him' sort of half laying on a little couch that was back there. His eyes were closed, his tongue was sticking out of his half smiling mouth, his FLY was open, and yes...you guessed it. 'IT' was also sticking out. WHAT THE HELL?
In total disgust, I turned and left that back room to howls of laughter.
Let it be known that I'm a little nervous writing this, because I've never written much about it or talked to anyone about it. As I've gotten older, I have finally told a few people about some of these events, but not in much detail. So, um...yeah...this is a little creepy for me to do. No...it's a LOT creepy...
I need a little break here.
*************************************************************************
When the 'wienie incident' happened, I didn't know what to do about it. So, after he jokingly said he didn't mean anything by it, I decided to just let it go. I did tell my young man friend, sort of, but I made him promise not to tell anyone about it. However, I was asked by my boss not to let him come around the store anymore. I'm not sure even now why that was.
School started in early September, and I was now a senior in high school. I had already worked it out in school, so that I would go to work at the store in the mornings, and then go to school in the afternoon. I had all the credits I needed, and I still wanted to make a little money.
I was a cheerleader, so many days I'd wear my uniform to work in the morning, then would already have it on for 'game day'. We all wore our cheerleading uniforms on every game day, and the football and basketball players still dressed up nice on those days, too. They even wore ties.
Before I move on, I think it's important to describe this man a little bit. You know what the Napoleon Complex is, right? This was the classic 'Little Man Syndrome'. He was about in his late 30s, I guess, at the time, and...short. But, although small in stature, he had a big mouth...naturally. Laughed all the time, and actually did have a pretty good sense of humor. I think people liked him, but he did over compensate by trying to be a 'big man'...drank a lot, smoked a lot, and chewed a lot of Wrigley Spearmint Gum. (I found this out in a hurry, as he on more than one occasion tried to 'manhandle' me and hold me up against a wall) However, to my knowledge, nobody in town but his 'crony pals' knew what a lowlife he was. And I'm sure, for as much time as most of those men spent in the back room of that store, they knew.
I was once standing at the end of a counter and as it was a game day, I had my cheerleading uniform on, and was heading to school in just a bit. He came up behind me, and I wasn't sure at first what was happening, but he pressed up the backside of me. As I started to try to move, he just laughed and kind of moved out of the way so I could then move. He held his hands up and said, 'Sorry'...but was grinning like an idiot.
This is kind of how this started. Nothing that I felt I couldn't handle, but...as the fall grew into winter, more and more of these kinds of incidences happened.
You have to know that this is the area for which I do not apologize for making it as subtle as I can, and for not getting graphic. What happened in these months of my life are something I do not want to fully discuss, and I think I can get my story out without doing that.
I remember being at a basketball game, and my cheerleading squad would go out onto the gym floor to do a 'pom pom' dance routine. The 'little man' would sit up on the stage across from the bleachers with his crony friends, all of whom I knew, or at least I knew their families. (my own Dad would sit there sometimes. I guess men who sort thought they were important, or were on the school board often sat there) Some of these men would have kids that I went to school with. (Remember now, I am in high school.) In one routine in particular, some of the steps would have us turning around and facing the stage, putting our back to the audience in the bleachers, before doing a few more steps and turning around again to face the bleachers. As I would do that, the 'little man' would be staring right at me, with his tongue hanging out. Then he'd be laughing. Pig.
By the way, I had made it very clear that I didn't like what he was doing when we would be alone at the store, but he usually just laughed and left me alone. But, he was a persistent little jackass, I'll give him that.
Once, his wife, who was a VERY lovely person...sweet, adorably cute...not overly bright, (and I'm not saying that to be mean, at all. She just wasn't.) but was very nice and kind...had made plans with her friend to go skiing. Her friend showed up, but it was snowing quite hard, and they considered not going. I remember thinking, 'Please don't go, please don't go', hoping she'd stay there so her husband would stay away from me. But she went.
Speaking of his wife, she had to have a hysterectomy at one point. I'm pretty sure this is not long before I left there, but here's what happened:
I knew some nice folks who owned a small motel just outside of town, and sometimes they'd ask me if I could 'babysit' it while they went out of town for the day. I knew them pretty well, and they trusted me there. The wife showed me how to use their switchboard, and I liked it. I really loved them, too. This time was winter, and it wasn't going to be busy there...it must have been a weekend day, because I wasn't in school. It could have been Christmas Break.
So, the store owner's wife went in to have her surgery. I had gotten there early to watch the motel and was spending the day at their office, when a car comes up the drive, and in comes the 'little man'. Giggling like always, like everything he did was so damn cute, he suggests I give him a key to a room, then come and meet up with him there. What the hell?!? Was he freakin' KIDDING? As if he were a 12 year old boy, I finally got him to leave there, and go to the hospital to see his wife...but guess what? On the way back, here he comes again! I didn't know when the motel owners would be back, so I did get him to leave and go home to his kids. What an ass.
It was constant badgering and chasing.
He pushed me up against a wall in a dark corner once, and that's when the distinct stench of stale cigarettes, yesterday's booze, and Wrigley Spearmint Gum made an impact. I will never forget that messed up smell. I feel that I was relatively lucky in my persuading him to leave me alone in most cases. But, he would say disgusting things to me that I didn't even know the meaning of. (even now I blush just thinking about it) I don't know if it was a shock value he was going for, or what was going on in his pea brain, but I sure did get an unwanted education.
So, believe me when I say I felt that I could no longer handle the situation. I would decide that I had to quit the job, even though by now I had bought that car that I wanted so badly, and would have to pay for it. It was my first loan, and my dad co-signed for it, and there is no way I was going to have him asking me why I couldn't pay for my car. Besides, I'd have to tell him why I quit, because I couldn't think of any reason that would have been a good excuse TO quit. So, each time I decided I would have to bite the bullet and just quit, and figure out the car thing later, the 'little man' would apologize and leave me alone for awhile.
Then, as always, it would start all over, and his filthy little hands would try to start groping up my skirt, or he'd have me up against a wall...I know, it's sickening. I can hardly even write these things.
I just remembered what I wanted to say about the guy that I dated for a while that wasn't so nice to me...remember him? Well, he came home from college on a long weekend that winter, and I'm guessing it was around the time of the hysterectomy/motel ordeal. We had broken up long ago, but were going out...I don't even know why. (probably because I felt like, being the loser I was, I didn't deserve better) I don't even remember where we went, probably just a movie, but were talking on the way home. He implied that I had something 'going on' with the guy at the store...WHAT? Did he seriously THINK that? And, where on earth did he come up with THAT conclusion, and where on earth did he hear about this? I tried to rationally talk to him about it, but that was impossible. He was somewhat belligerent, and thought he knew it all, and I couldn't wait to get out of his car. I never saw him again. Not ever.
So, at that very moment, in my own little rationale, I decided that everybody must know.
Now, this is probably the thing that made the most impact on me thus far. I was sure, just absolutely certain, that everybody I knew, knew about this. I just knew that they were talking about it behind my back. I thought that people could just look at me, and they could tell I was being harassed by this older, married guy. All of the town's people knew him, and everybody knew me and my family. I just knew that everybody that had morning coffee together at the local diner were talking about me. I just knew my friends at school were laughing when I wasn't around, and that their parents knew about it. And, I just knew all the teachers knew. I thought that everybody could tell by just looking at me.
I didn't go to parties, I didn't drink, I didn't really go anywhere but to ball games. To be very honest, I just didn't fit in anywhere. For awhile I thought I did, but when I look back, I see that I really didn't. I missed out on a lot because of what happened. I felt so dirty and humiliated. And I just knew everybody else knew. And, at the same time, because I didn't know how to stop it, I felt kind of...stuck.
Actually, a lifelong 'friend', someone who I've known since we were 5 years old, who went back and forth with me to each others' homes all through growing up, and who has been what I'd consider a friend, recently told me via social media that she's despised me since we were in Kindergarten, and that I was a bitch, even then...can Kindergarteners even BE bitches?...and that I am such a nothin' compared to her, and how she is so much better than me...she's probably right about that. (Maybe that is the real reason I never even got asked to a party. I wouldn't have gone, because I knew my Dad would have found out, but it would have been nice to be asked...just once.) This was all because we are political opposites. But, as I recall things that happened during that time in my life, I realize that anything is possible. Even now, it goes through my head that maybe she is talking about THIS.
I've struggled all of my life with feeling like I'm judged. I must walk around with a target somewhere on me.
I know what you're thinking...'Why didn't you quit that job? Why didn't you TELL someone?'
I will dedicate a whole page to that.
I Never Saw 'The Weird' Coming
So, I started working on the weekends, and I stayed mostly on the side that sold the clothes, but I did spend quite a bit of time on the other side as well, taking each glass piece off of the glass shelves and dusting everything off. Now that I think about it, there were some small appliances, too. By the time I'd finish it all, by going back and forth from that side to the side where I actually helped people and rang up their purchases, it would be about time to start over again.
I would help out as inventory came in, arranging and pricing things. I liked it. I saw a lot of people. Most people knew me, of course, and it was just about the only place to shop, other than the pharmacy across the street, and the grocery stores...of which there were 3 at that time.
School let out and summer set in, and I went to work about every day then. It was never a problem to have a day off if I wanted it. It wasn't like I ran the place or anything, and at first I was never there by myself, but as time went on, the other lady, who was much older than me, wouldn't have to be there when I was. So, that was pretty cool. I think she liked having some days or at least mornings off. I could always find something to do, like rearrange the shelves, fold clothes, whatever. And, there was the never ending dusting.
Because I had my driver's license, I was often asked to take the store owner's car (well, it was his wife's car) and drive their kids places. Sometimes it was just to friend's house, but there were a few times I'd take them to whatever kind of 'practice' they had that day. I didn't mind it. They even had me come and get their car and take their car down the street once to a car wash that my cheer leading squad was putting on to raise money for new uniforms.
I wasn't dating anybody at that point. I had had a long term high school boyfriend, who was a year older than me, but we sort of split up when he graduated. It was okay, really, because he wasn't all that nice to me. (he even cheated on me with a girl that went to a different school. When you're 16, that's a pretty big deal) He was going to college in the fall. (I mention him because he played a small but significant role later on, which I will eventually get to)
But there was another kid whose family owned a summer place by the lake, and we became pretty good friends. I don't remember how we met, exactly, but all of a sudden, he was there. And I liked him tremendously. I felt like I could 'be myself' around him. We'd go out sometimes, but not as a 'girlfriend/boyfriend' kind of thing. He was very nice to me, always a gentleman, and I liked him a lot. He was also a year older than me, and he came to his family's place that summer after he graduated and stayed well into the fall and early winter. I had known him for a year or two already, and he'd take me sailing in his little 'Sunfish' sail boat sometimes...(perhaps it was a 'Sailfish'. I guess it doesn't matter)...maybe it was his friend's boat, I don't even know, but it sure was fun. We laughed a lot and talked on the phone for hours.
I mention this young man too, because he made an impact on my life, and although we never really dated, we did go out some, and there was always something about him that I could just never let go of, to this day. A connection, almost. I think that maybe if I had had the courage to tell him what was really happening, I might have been able to change things. I don't know if it would have made a difference, but he was, at that time, like a rock for me. I trusted him, but I didn't trust myself enough to confide in him, but for just a little bit, which I will get into later. But I always wished I had. Partly what makes me sad to this day, is the lack of confidence I had in myself, fearing that if I had confided in him, that I wouldn't be good enough. I was afraid that I didn't deserve someone like him for a friend, who was kind to me no matter what. But, maybe, just maybe...
He made me feel special, and sometimes I thought I knew what it was like to be 'put on a pedestal', because I felt like he put me there, but I could never chance ruining that feeling. If he knew the 'secret', then I could never be that 'princess' again.
I've always wanted to know what happened to him...he was somewhat of 'the hero' to me, at least in my mind, and he never even knew it.
Before I go further, I also need to say that there was a man who also worked at the store in the summer months. He was a good friend of the store's owner, and I also knew him, but not very well, even though he was a teacher at the school we all went to. What he taught isn't relevant, because AS a teacher (and a person) he sucked.
There were many men who came in the store through the hardware entrance and went straight to the back room. They'd have morning coffee there, and some would come back throughout the day. Some would just come in there early, and stay all morning, but sometimes they'd come in the afternoon, and I was pretty sure they were heavily drinking. I guess they just didn't have anything else to do. I could hear a lot of laughing, but I never went to the back room.
Once in awhile one guy, who owned one of the grocery stores in town and later sold real estate, would tell me a stupid joke that he thought was hilarious as he breezed in or out. I'd be pleasant and try to force a laugh, but I would have much rather he didn't go out of his way to tell me a stupid joke. One time it was a dirty one, and I was terribly embarrassed. He should not have done that.
I guess it was nearing the end of the summer when I started to feel a little too uneasy.
I would help out as inventory came in, arranging and pricing things. I liked it. I saw a lot of people. Most people knew me, of course, and it was just about the only place to shop, other than the pharmacy across the street, and the grocery stores...of which there were 3 at that time.
School let out and summer set in, and I went to work about every day then. It was never a problem to have a day off if I wanted it. It wasn't like I ran the place or anything, and at first I was never there by myself, but as time went on, the other lady, who was much older than me, wouldn't have to be there when I was. So, that was pretty cool. I think she liked having some days or at least mornings off. I could always find something to do, like rearrange the shelves, fold clothes, whatever. And, there was the never ending dusting.
Because I had my driver's license, I was often asked to take the store owner's car (well, it was his wife's car) and drive their kids places. Sometimes it was just to friend's house, but there were a few times I'd take them to whatever kind of 'practice' they had that day. I didn't mind it. They even had me come and get their car and take their car down the street once to a car wash that my cheer leading squad was putting on to raise money for new uniforms.
I wasn't dating anybody at that point. I had had a long term high school boyfriend, who was a year older than me, but we sort of split up when he graduated. It was okay, really, because he wasn't all that nice to me. (he even cheated on me with a girl that went to a different school. When you're 16, that's a pretty big deal) He was going to college in the fall. (I mention him because he played a small but significant role later on, which I will eventually get to)
But there was another kid whose family owned a summer place by the lake, and we became pretty good friends. I don't remember how we met, exactly, but all of a sudden, he was there. And I liked him tremendously. I felt like I could 'be myself' around him. We'd go out sometimes, but not as a 'girlfriend/boyfriend' kind of thing. He was very nice to me, always a gentleman, and I liked him a lot. He was also a year older than me, and he came to his family's place that summer after he graduated and stayed well into the fall and early winter. I had known him for a year or two already, and he'd take me sailing in his little 'Sunfish' sail boat sometimes...(perhaps it was a 'Sailfish'. I guess it doesn't matter)...maybe it was his friend's boat, I don't even know, but it sure was fun. We laughed a lot and talked on the phone for hours.
I mention this young man too, because he made an impact on my life, and although we never really dated, we did go out some, and there was always something about him that I could just never let go of, to this day. A connection, almost. I think that maybe if I had had the courage to tell him what was really happening, I might have been able to change things. I don't know if it would have made a difference, but he was, at that time, like a rock for me. I trusted him, but I didn't trust myself enough to confide in him, but for just a little bit, which I will get into later. But I always wished I had. Partly what makes me sad to this day, is the lack of confidence I had in myself, fearing that if I had confided in him, that I wouldn't be good enough. I was afraid that I didn't deserve someone like him for a friend, who was kind to me no matter what. But, maybe, just maybe...
He made me feel special, and sometimes I thought I knew what it was like to be 'put on a pedestal', because I felt like he put me there, but I could never chance ruining that feeling. If he knew the 'secret', then I could never be that 'princess' again.
I've always wanted to know what happened to him...he was somewhat of 'the hero' to me, at least in my mind, and he never even knew it.
Before I go further, I also need to say that there was a man who also worked at the store in the summer months. He was a good friend of the store's owner, and I also knew him, but not very well, even though he was a teacher at the school we all went to. What he taught isn't relevant, because AS a teacher (and a person) he sucked.
There were many men who came in the store through the hardware entrance and went straight to the back room. They'd have morning coffee there, and some would come back throughout the day. Some would just come in there early, and stay all morning, but sometimes they'd come in the afternoon, and I was pretty sure they were heavily drinking. I guess they just didn't have anything else to do. I could hear a lot of laughing, but I never went to the back room.
Once in awhile one guy, who owned one of the grocery stores in town and later sold real estate, would tell me a stupid joke that he thought was hilarious as he breezed in or out. I'd be pleasant and try to force a laugh, but I would have much rather he didn't go out of his way to tell me a stupid joke. One time it was a dirty one, and I was terribly embarrassed. He should not have done that.
I guess it was nearing the end of the summer when I started to feel a little too uneasy.
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