Saturday, July 03, 2004

Part One: Me

I was born in New Orleans in the middle of the summer of love—July of 1967. I love saying that. But my dad was in the Air Force and we moved when I was 2 years old, so it’s not nearly as cool as it sounds and I don’t remember a bit of it.

I have a sister 22 months older than I, and another 18 months younger. I love them both very much, and I’m proud of their accomplishments, but I don’t understand my younger sister very well—my older sister and I, on the other hand, have been inseparable best friends since our late high-school years. When she graduated & moved from Arizona to Colorado, I was devastated!

A few years later, after my mom and I moved back to California, after my own high-school graduation, after my unsuccessful move to Oregon which involved an attempt at college and some serious suicidal tendencies, I came back to the Central Coast of California to live with my dad—for the first time since I was 11 years. Well, technically 10. He moved out 1 month and 2 days before my 11th birthday. I thought it was all my fault. Hmph. Don’t we all....

I started school, or rather resumed school at a local Junior College. I guess they’re all called Community Colleges now, but this was still called a Jr. College. Among the people I started hanging out with was a guy named Geoffrey. Geoff was cool: he was aloof; fancied himself a beat-poet, a philosopher; ate Chinese food right out of the box, drank espresso before it was hip, and smoked. A lot. I was taken with him. My second semester there, when I was still only 19 years old, he introduced me to his step-brother John, 10 years my senior. "Be nice to him" Geoff said, "he hasn’t been in school for a long time & doesn’t really know anyone, so if you see him around, be nice to him." Well ok, Geoff, I can do that for you I guess.

After running into each other randomly for a month or so, John and I finally figured out where our schedules meshed and started hanging out on a more regular basis. Like me, he also loved his coffee and cigarettes. There’s no way to make this story any shorter, so I’ll just avoid making it much longer…. John had a wife at home, a 3 yr old son, and another baby on the way. Did I know these facts? Yes I did. Did I care? I did not. At 19, we are still invincible—we can still have anything we want without fear of repercussion. God we’re stupid.

My sister moved from Denver back to the central coast. She and I got an apartment together a few blocks away from the Jr. College. She started attending classes as well and was frequently mistaken for me. A couple of things: I have curly hair and glasses, she had a perm at the time and for whatever reason wasn’t wearing her contacts. Yeah, I guess we look alike. Except that she’s like 5 inches taller than I am and our bodies are completely different! Geez, people just don’t pay attention do they?

Six days before my 20th birthday, John was at our appt for a meeting of the "Social Issues" club (somehow I think we all imagined we'd save the world). I was the Secretary, John was the President, Geoff and my sister were also somehow involved (I can’t remember anymore who was who), as well as all our other friends. Ah, who were we kidding? We were all just friends hangin’ out. LOL. Oh, I should mention that by this time Geoff lived with us, too; he and my sister had a thing going on (way to go, Sis!).

When most people had left, I straddled John’s lap and whispered in his ear, "Have you ever fucked a teen-ager?"


"Not even when you were a teen-ager?"

"No, my first girlfriend, when I was 16, was 20 years old."

"Well, you have 6 days left..."

So we did. And within 5 months, we were living together. I had just turned 20 and I suddenly had a 30 year old husband (well, for all intents and purposes a husband) and two step-sons. Holy shit.