The boy from Brooklyn that I married was a club customer. There are reasons why I refer to him as a boy. We met in a bar, that I worked in, at the time, as a dancer. During my years working in these nightclubs I, occasionally, started to feel burned out, by the bullshit involved in this business. If it became too much for me to deal with, in one nightclub, for whatever reason, I would go work in a different one, for a while. Another way, that I dealt with that, was by leaving Omaha altogether and going somewhere completely new, to be a live-in nanny. I always chose to do that job in some other state, just for a change of scenery, and, some interesting travel opportunities. The third way I dealt with my needing a break from the job, was to accept one of the many marriage offers, that, for whatever reason, I have always had more than my fair share of, in my life, and leave the bar business behind me, with the hope--- however faint, that was--- that the (at least, legally,) committed relationship would gain some traction, and actually develop into something, really worthwhile, for a change. By this point, in my life, my experience with both, men, and, marriage, had caused me to set the bar fairly low, as far as my expectations regarding either one, so I was never all that optimistic about it, just based on the facts, as they were, going into these marriages of mine. It's sad, to say, but true.
I was working at the Backdoor Lounge, again, at this point in time, after recently returning to Omaha from being a live-in nanny in Bridgeport, Connecticut, to two little girls who were not yet school age. Their stressed-out single mother made it very uncomfortable, for me. She also required me to cook Jewish meals, which I was not at all familiar with. Cooking had not been part of my nanny job in Miami for the Jewish family there. This was my second nanny job as well as my second time working for a Jewish family. That did not have anything to do with why this job didn't work out though. It was just too tense, there, all the time. She was in the middle of renovating her house. When I arrived there wasn't even a working bathtub. I had to wash up at the sink the best I could, for several days. I was on my period, so it was distressing, to not be able to clean my body really well. She finally drove us all over to her wealthy parents' condo, in Southport, to use their luxurious bathroom. As the water cascaded down over my body, when it was my turn to bathe, I started sobbing, in the shower, just from all the pent up stress, I felt, from the entire situation. The younger of the two girls I cared for was still in diapers. Her mother would change her diaper, in a rush, to get out the door, with the girls, on my day off, and I would find the dirty diaper, just left sitting, smelly, on the upholstered couch, that I had planned to try to sit, and relax, on. Being a very clean, and conscientious, person, this habit of hers, literally, did not sit well with me. There was no internet, back then. Young women were hired as nannies by answering ads, placed in newspapers, by the agencies. Then, they mailed out paperwork to fill out, and the rest was all done over the phone. I was placed into these, domestic caregiver, positions through phone interviews, sight unseen, and there is just no way to gauge relationship chemistry between the employer and I that way. The closest thing I had to having any 'fun', there, was my taking a CPR refresher class, on my own initiative; and the woman that I worked for drove me to New Haven, to see Yale University, from inside the car, for 5 minutes, one day. That was it, except for us going to the beach in Southport once, with her parents.It was always nice to know that when I left town on these capricious adventures I could easily get another dancer gig, as soon, as I returned, if the nanny job didn't turn out as well as I hoped that it would. Usually, with a simple phone call, to one of these nightclubs, telling the manager I was back in town, and wanted to dance there again. Either that way, or showing up, I always got hired on the spot. When I got back, to Omaha, this time, I wanted to live in a newly remodeled apartment building, which was about a half-mile from the Backdoor; so I chose it to work in, then. Because I had just started working again, the club manager, Dick McGinnis, called up the landlord of that apartment building I wanted to live in, and paid my deposit and rent for the first month so I could move in! Then, he just deducted it from my paychecks. He intervened this way, in my living situation, because I was staying temporarily with a male employee, of the Smoke Pit Restaurant, in which the Backdoor Lounge was also located; in one of two apartments that were in the building. The owners, of all of it, Joe, and his wife, Kim, lived in the other one for awhile until they moved into a large house when they started a family. I had told Bill, whom I was staying with, that I would NOT have sex with him, when he had offered for me to stay there until I saved the money to move into that apartment that I wanted; but, of course, every single night he kept trying to get me to, so it was not going very well at all, with my staying with him, for even that short time.
>Sigh!< There is that saying, "Be careful what you wish for." The apartment that I wanted, and got, was nice! THAT worked out well, for me. But, as a dancer who had to put up with so many men that I sat with, in the nightclubs, propositioning me for sex, in one way or another, night after night, I often longed to meet a guy who DIDN'T do that, to me, for a change. As it turned out, Tom, who became my third husband, was that guy. I'm really not sure why he was like that, but I could barely ever get him interested in anything sexual, with me! Believe it or not, Tom and I only had (very fast and poor quality) sex a handful of times, over the entire course of our relationship; and yet, I married him--- not just once, but--- TWICE! I almost chuckle to myself, about the irony of that, as I think back on it, now. My life has certainly not been normal in alot of ways. What are the odds that I would meet a guy in a meat market* like a Go Go bar who was basically uninterested in being sexual--- at least with me. I have no idea how he was with anyone else. He was ALL BOY. There was NO manhood in him. He'd had a traumatic childhood too, though, that seemed to stop his emotional development, at around the age of 11. He showed passion, but, only toward his comic book collection, and video games. Because of that, and due to other things, as well, I had much more of a maternal relationship with him although it wasn't what I wanted or needed with a husband. In a way, it worked, for me, though; only in the sense that, I felt fulfilled, being a caregiver to someone who needed me. Tom didn't often act like it, but he, clearly, needed me. None, of my needs, were ever really met in this relationship, though, making it unsustainable. He acted like a rebellious, pre-teen, boy, toward me. So, I was in a thankless position, with him, relationally. Tom took. But, he didn't give.
Women are built to need heroes. Our very soul requires them for its nourishment. Not only did Tom NOT be that for me, when HE came into my life, virtually no one before him had either. It was just more of what I almost always got from the men in my life. I was destined to be disappointed, especially, romantically, by believing --- or at least hoping--- that they would be My Hero; because they weren't. It was just more of the same--- males, I allowed into my life, being TAKERS, and USERS. I wanted to, both, love, and be loved. Since that is true, there are, obviously, very compelling reasons why, after my experiences, with men in my life, I've chosen to remain, not just single, but celibate, and romantically uninvolved, for more than 3 decades now. I certainly have no desire to ever be married again. My assessment, of men, is that (1) they are far more trouble than they're worth and (2) they take alot more than they give in a relationship, which is very draining, to me. I end up broken hearted, used up, worn out, and with nothing at all to show for my trouble but loss and heartbreak. I feel like I'm consumed by them, as if I'm nothing more than an expendable commodity, and tossed aside once they've emptied me of my energy and efforts, that I invested toward them in my attempt to have a mutually satisfying relationship. I cannot think of one single time, that I came out, of these relationships, better off, in any way; except, that I was rid of the man involved. It was still surprising, to me, exactly how thoughtless, Tom was, toward me, though.
When I walked up to Tom, in the Backdoor Lounge, to ask if I could join him at his table, I was simply doing my job--- trying to make my required drink quota for my shift, while offering my conversational company to a club customer. He was, just a guy in the bar, who didn't stand out to me, in any way. He seemed shy, though, or at least, awkward. I do not recall what we even talked about. This was not 'love at first sight', by any means! Tom was a 50/50 cross, between his father, who was an Irishman, and his mother, who was of some Latin/Hispanic background, so, he had the long torso, and short legs, of his father, but, his coloring, was from his mother, giving him, black hair, brown eyes, and a light-brown skin tone. He had the accent of a boy from Brooklyn, New York. But, he also sounded almost like he lisped, just a bit, or had some kind of a 'baby voice'. He'd come in there to see some, specific, dancer, as I recall, that either, no longer worked there, or, was otherwise occupied, with another customer, although, I had never noticed him, in there, before, myself. I have to admit that what got my attention was that he was in the Air Force. I had actually loved being in the military, and felt that I was robbed of that lifestyle, due to the wrongful sexual assertions of a, married, Air Force officer, who happened to be my commander, at the time. So, I was drawn to those who were still privileged to serve. That made Tom much more interesting, to me, than he would have been, otherwise. He was a sergeant. His specialized training was as a weather forecaster.
He came across as a really nice guy. Probably, because, he never once came on to me sexually. It would never have occurred to me that this wasn't simply him being gentlemanly, toward me, as much as it was, the beginning, of the signs, of, either, his sexual dysfunction, or his disinterest, in me, in that way, or, both. I don't think he was gay, although I'm really not sure. As things unfolded it became abundantly clear that he had some real misogynistic tendencies toward women other than his mother and little sister. With them he was always extremely loving, protective and loyal. All the things that I needed him to be with me, as well, that he never was. I recall he was raised Catholic, and he seemed to have very black-and-white beliefs, about females, that divided, my gender, into madonnas or whores. It seemed that there was no in-between, in his mind. Looking back over any or all of my romantic relationships with men, I see clearly in hindsight that Red Flags abounded to warn me away from the relationship with them. I still had that toxic poison, in me, from the Disney-movies-upbringing, though, that, clouded the clarity, of my vision, and thoughts, at the time, with the muddled message, from those fantasies, that 'Love would conquer all', and that by giving my love to someone, I would be guaranteed a 'Happily Ever After!' outcome. At least, at some point, along the way . . . ? After two previous marriages--- and divorces--- already behind me surely it must be my turn, I told myself. My lifestyle, as a dancer, offered me everything, but love. Love still eluded me. Guys constantly told me they wanted me. Sexually. I wanted love!
I did not date Tom very long. I felt like he was a nice enough guy, and that I could build something good with him. As I said, my expectations were fairly low, by this point in my life, both for men, and for marriage. Tom had not approached me in a sexual way, prior to marriage. I was not used to that, from a guy, but at the time, I thought it must be due to his convictions. I felt respected by him. It wouldn't be long before I found out how little he actually did respect me. Somewhere down in my subconscious, though, I was either registering some of those Red Flags, that I somehow sensed about him, or else, something in me was whispering to my soul, "You shouldn't settle. You deserve better than just making do** with a marriage." My life experiences had all converged to convince me otherwise, however. So, the wedding took place, even though, I almost did not go through with it. Tom was to meet me at my apartment, and then, go over to the courthouse, with me, for our wedding before a judge. Nothing fancy or even romantic, at all, really. He ran late though. Late enough, that I started thinking he was a No Show, which caused me to reassess why I would even want to go ahead, with this, anyway, if he did show up. There were no cell phones back then, so we couldn't just call one another. He brought a young couple he was friends with, from the Baptist church he attended near the military base, to be our witnesses. By the time they finally arrived, I had seriously Cold Feet, and, after getting as far as the courthouse, I retreated, into a Ladies Restroom, there, in a panic, hyperventilating slightly and really feeling like I did not want to go through with it! I had already quit my dancer job for this, but I could easily go back to it, I told myself, as I stood there looking in the mirror, at the fear on my face. The young woman of the couple came in there after me, and talked me into it. I should have just left. I didn't even know her. I never even saw her again, after that day. My upbringing had taught me not to have a voice of my own, though. Not to stand up for myself; for what I needed. So, I always second-guessed myself, especially in times of uncertainty and pressure. So Tom and I got married. There were no Wedding Bells, and no firecrackers, romantically speaking.
There wasn't a honeymoon, meaning that we didn't go anywhere, nor did we start having sex. I had never had to work hard to make a man want me. Men were just men. If anything, they wanted all the sex they could get! Not Tom. A clock was by the bed which had a second hand, and it was in my line of sight, when we were in bed. The few times that I finally coaxed Tom into having sex with me I saw that it never lasted more than about a minute, at the most. I sighed, to myself, that, the "Minute Waltz"*** could be our 'lovemaking' Theme Song. I didn't nag him, about it, though, even though I did not understand it, and it felt like a rejection, by him. After all, I was used to being completely celibate. Even, for years, at a time. Even while I was a dancer, and men were propositioning me, for sex, on a nightly basis. My core values were conservative ones, and I was a Rape Trauma Survivor, so my having sex that wasn't based on a love relationship never felt right to me, or even seemed worth it, to do. Also, I have always been very medically squeamish which included my not wanting to catch anything, from anyone, which might need to be treated, such as with a shot, or even worse, couldn't be treated, and had no cure. I didn't even want to catch a cold sore from kissing anybody! Lots of things could be transmitted during sexual acts. It had been love that I had always wanted, if I had to choose between the two things. The trouble was, I did not end up feeling I was loved, or desired, by Tom. Just used. But, not the ways that men typically do that, to females. I felt like, I was only wanted as a Mother Substitute, for this boy, that I was now married to. Not a boy in age, but in maturity level. I loved being a caregiver and nurturing my loved one. But, I did not sign a Marriage Certificate to adopt Tom, as my child! Which is, basically, what he was, and acted like, with me.
In or out of bed, Tom proved to be a disappointment, in every way. He moved into my apartment, with me, when we married. So, he had a friend from work and I go with him to his old apartment, to get his things from there. When we arrived, Tom ran up the stairs, ahead of us. I thought, he had just gone to unlock the door. But, not long after we were inside, starting to gather up his things, I noticed there was a crumpled piece of paper which had been wadded up, lying on the floor. Picking it up, to see what it was, I realized that it was an Eviction Notice, for nonpayment of rent, which Tom's landlord had posted on his apartment door because his rent was delinquent. Tom hadn't mentioned anything, about that, to me. Clearly, he knew it was waiting for him there, when he'd hurried up the stairs ahead of us, apparently to tear it off of the door and quickly toss it aside, hoping I would not see it. It was very concerning, to me, on many levels; not the least of which was my wondering if this guy had married me simply to be able to move into my apartment, with me, because he knew he was going to be evicted from his own due to irresponsibility. I continued to ponder this possibility, to myself, while packing up more of his things. Not long after we got there, he asked his friend, Mark, to come with him, to check out the comic book store, that was just down the block from there. They ended up being gone quite a while, leaving me there, all alone, to continue packing, for him. Mark told me, later, that he had told Tom, when they went over to the store for so long, that I was likely feeling pretty taken advantage of, by him taking off, leaving me to do all his packing, for him. He said that Tom looked completely surprised by that comment, and shrugged it off, assuring him that I was not feeling like that, at all, when, in reality, that was EXACTLY how I was left feeling. Mark, was a married man, who understood, the give and take, honesty, and mutual cooperation, which were necessary for a good marriage. Tom had absolutely NO idea, of how, to be a HUSBAND. He did not even know how to be a GROWN MAN. Tom, thought of Tom.
Tom kept buying, what became, stacks and stacks of comic books, including those he considered to be collectibles. Letting his bills go unpaid, and his responsibilities go unmet. They were his pride and joy. He loved them, so much, that I'm amazed he didn't masturbate on their pages. THEY HAD HIS HEART, NOT ME. Also, we put in a Change Of Address card for his mail to start coming to my apartment address from his old address. The day his forwarded mail began to arrive, I grew alarmed, then angry, as I saw what was being mailed to him! It was a stack of Late Notices, Overdue Bills, Unpaid Bills, and threatening legal letters from businesses he owed money to. Now that I was his spouse, these bills were also MY legal responsibility, although I hadn't known anything at all about them! Tom had not told me a thing, about any of this mess he had made of his finances and his credit standing. When he came home from the base that day, I had him sit down and write letters telling every one of those creditors that he was going to pay them all he owed them and when they could expect that money from him. With, an APOLOGY, to them, for his deliberate dodging of his responsibility, toward their good faith provision, of goods and services to him. I worked out a budget, and we stuck to it, getting him out of that debt, and, started a Savings cushion. Something he did not even have. I was upset that I was LEGALLY LIABLE for his bills, and told him he needed to never do that, again, to his creditors, or to me. At one point, in all the issues I encountered as I tried to help rehabilitate Tom, from being an irresponsible child to a grown up (unsuccessfully, when all was said and done), I had a phone conversation with his First Sergeant, at the military base. He thanked me, for what I was doing, to help Tom, telling me that HE had disciplined Tom twice, already, for the SAME financial irresponsibility, and, that the Air Force would NOT have done that, for him, again, THIS time (that I was doing it), but would have finally DISCHARGED HIM FOR IT! Military members are held to certain standards of conduct, and Tom, was, clearly, not meeting those. So, I also saved his military CAREER; which he enjoyed doing.
Tom did not show me any gratitude, for any, of that, though. Instead, he resented me for requiring adult discipline from him, now. He had a classic case of Peter Pan Syndrome****. Since, he did not want, to act responsibly, he angered easily, and rebelled, seemingly against me, his 'Mom' figure, however unspoken that was. He moved out, then he wanted to be taken care of, again, and wanted to come back, then, he moved out, again, then, came back, again, then, moved out, again . . . . His friend, Mark, knew he was acting like a silly child pitching tantrums and would say as much to me. Apologizing, on Tom's, unrepentant, behalf, for what Tom was putting me through, with all this, whenever Tom enlisted Mark's help, to come get his TV and video games, et cetera, out of my apartment, during some of his move outs. There was so much, in, and out, activity, with Tom, there, that, at one point, the landlord asked me to clarify exactly what was going on, with all that back and forth. It was frustrating, and humiliating, for me. >sigh< I knew the Air Force was sick of it, with him, and was about to discharge him, for his crap, when he latched onto me, and I got it straightened out before another creditor of his complained to the military authorities and Tom got kicked out of the service. He clearly could not do it on his own. Even as much of a disappointment, to me, that Tom was, I sadly had not come across anyone any better, to invest my time, and talents, in. I liked feeling needed, and he certainly needed me. But he also rebelled against my help, and, even against his needing me, rejecting me, in the process of that, due to his resenting he needed me; placing me constantly in a thankless situation, with him.
I had Tom on a budget, but, he still had full access to his own money. I love trying to buy the perfect gift for my loved ones based on who they are. So, as Christmas approached, I bought several nice presents for Tom. His favorite was the Nintendo gaming system. He excitedly connected it to his TV, early Christmas morning, and when, I finally gave up, on expecting any Thank You, or companionship, from him, that long day and went to sleep, finally, late at night, he was still playing it, sitting on the floor, with his back, up against the bed, that I was in. He was consumed by the video games, that I had gotten him. I, had spent almost all day, looking at the back of his head. He had shown me nothing but a complete self-centeredness, our entire relationship, really. But, even so, I admit, that I was, actually, shocked, and frankly hurt, when that Christmas Day arrived and not only because I was his wife but because of all that I had done, for him, I did expect, some kind of a Christmas gift from him . . . and there was NONE. NOTHING. NOT EVEN ONE SINGLE THING. I felt devastated. HOW, could he NOT, even THINK, to get me, even a small box of candy? Something. ANYTHING! It was so inconsiderate of him, that it was actually appalling, to me. I could not BELIEVE that I even had to educate this BOY on how he needs to buy a Christmas gift for his own wife! As a COURTESY, if nothing else.
When the post-Holiday sales began, just after that, I informed him that he WAS to take me to the mall, and that he WAS going to buy me some Christmas gifts, and, he did. But, it was never HIS idea or intention, to do that, for me, AT ALL. I had to TELL him to. A similar thing happened on my birthday. Whenever he moved out of my apartment, that I had lived in before we married, he would stay on base in the barracks. Dorm 324, actually. The very same one that I had stayed in, while I was stationed at Offutt, when I was in the Air Force. A co-ed dorm, with separate male and female wings. Someone, gave me a single red rose, that day, for my birthday, and because I was going through so much, with Tom. So, I had it with me, when I decided to spend the day going to visit Tom, at the dorm on base, to see if he was happier there, since he kept on, moving into it, from our apartment. He simply sat sulking, on the bed, refusing to make eye contact with me, or talk to me; so I left. But, I left the rose, for him, because, he did not seem to be all that happy, staying there, either. Tom always made things about himself. He knew, it was my birthday, that day, and couldn't even say 'Happy Birthday' to me. Nothing. I never really got anything from him on his own initiative that was affectionate, or affirming. It hurt.
Then he got orders to go to South Korea for a year on a Remote Duty Assignment. Many military wives dread hearing that news, because we heard the stories, about how even the chaplains, which were stationed over there, would get themselves a yobo*****, for that time, while they were away, from their wives, who were back in the States. In plain terms, these men, whether, married or not, religious or not, would avail themselves, of the all-too-eager-to-please Korean women, who would both serve the men, and service the men sexually, while they were there--- often hoping to become a bride, to the man, and be brought to the States, to enjoy the American lifestyle. Tom would be the last guy to ever do that, I thought to myself, since, he never even wanted sex, with his own wife! One day, a couple of months, or so, after he was gone, to Korea, I was trying to withdraw funds to pay my rent from his checking account, and was told that he had closed the account. Now, my rent was due, and I suddenly found myself without access to any money at all; to pay that or anything else! Tom had not said anything to me about him doing that. He just did it. However, military members are required to provide support to their dependents, and are even allotted more money in their paychecks, once they are married, specifically for this reason. I called the base he was at in Korea because of the urgency, of the situation, and was told that he was not in on that shift, but would be in later. Then his co-worker who answered the phone when I called told me that he thought I should know that Tom was living with his yobo; that he had one of those. My heart just sank. HOW, could TOM, of all people, have a YOBO?!? I was devastated; again. When I called back later, and got Tom on the phone, he admitted it. MY husband, who wouldn't sleep with ME, had gone to Korea, and in shockingly short order had, basically, gotten himself a, sexual, slave, to meet his every desire (if he actually HAD any desires, which was UNPROVEN, as far as MY experience with him). He even told me, quite matter-of-factly, that he struck the young Korean woman, at times, if she didn't please him. He said they met when she sat down with him, in a bar or somewhere, and had tapped her finger on his wedding ring, asking him if he were married. I didn't know what to think, but we got divorced. One, of my pet peeves, about men, especially if they're married, is that they don't hesitate to do things that, if it were reversed, and their WIFE was doing those very same things, they couldn't handle it. Yet they expect US to just ACCEPT that behavior, from THEM. NOT ME! I don't, and, I won't. Good riddance.This post covered the gist of my first marriage to Tom who was my third husband. Amazingly, I gave him a second chance, a year or so, later, I think it was, and we got married, a second time. But, I will cover that in a separate post, because this post is already fairly long. I did finally learn my lesson, but it wasn't soon enough to avoid repeating my mistake, where Tom, was concerned. So, I made it TWICE!
* meat market: a meeting place such as a bar or nightclub for people seeking sexual encounters.
