The one where I probably share too much
We all did some really stupid things in our younger years, right? I have a long list. But one of those things came back to haunt me recently. After college, I held several jobs at a time to make ends meet. My “real” job paid me minimum wage straight out of college and I couldn’t live on that (no, that isn’t one of the stupid things). Through one of my jobs, I met a man who was good bit older than me. This man pursued me somewhat aggressively. I wasn’t having a lot of fun in those days – all work and no play, we all know that doesn’t turn out well. We began seeing each other. We kept things hush-hush for a variety of reasons. First? I was only 6 years older than his son. Even I saw the ick potential there. Second, he was kind of friendly with my dad seeing as he was closer to Dad’s age than mine (there is that ick potential again).
We dated on and off for almost 2 years. We never went any where in public. During that 2 year span, I had to not only meet but do some work with his ex-wife. (Got a huge chuckle when I heard through the grapevine that she thought I must be a lesbian because I didn’t join in the girly gossip about boys. Heh.) You know the story, they’ve done a million movies of the week about it. I would get upset that we never went out in public. He would explain it was because he didn’t want to hurt his son (who was a highly functioning developmentally delayed boy). We would break up for awhile then get back together. It was silly but it was a safe relationship. I didn’t have to worry about getting too involved because I knew he would never be available. Perfect for someone who never wanted to get married. I did finally end things for good. He stalked me for 4 months. Friends threatened him. We all moved on with life.
Fast forward about 9 years to my dad’s funeral. You see where this is going don’t you? Oh yeah. He showed up and stood in line to pay his respects. I didn’t even notice him – my sister came and whispered “the old man is here” in my ear. Steve was on the other side of the room chatting with someone else. The old man finally made his way over to me. Long, uncomfortable hug. Many compliments that I look great. Condolences. Then he starts talking to me in what feels like an intimate whisper. He saw in the obit that I am married and have a daughter, yada, yada, yada. He says he can’t believe it has been 9 years, yada, yada, yada. He misses me. I have been uncomfortable since the hug lasted too long. I’m looking every where but at him while trying to make non-committal sounds of small talk. Then he starts this bizarre story about a “premonition” he had about me. (I swear he wasn’t that bizarre when we dated.) Steve must have noticed the horrified look on my face because he swooped in with an arm around my shoulder at just that moment allowing me to interrupt the old man’s story in order to introduce my husband. The old man (nickname from my sister…he is maybe 51 now) shakes my husband’s hand and moves on. I kiss Steve and thank him for rescuing me.
Not sure what is creepier, hitting on someone at their father’s funeral OR attempting to relive old times when those old times almost ended in a restraining order OR hitting on someone who has just informed you she is incredibly happily married and adopting a beautiful little girl? Ding, ding, ding, ding – that is correct Alex, all of the above! Thanks for playing.