Turbulence (part3)

Before I went on my trip to Idaho, things were - to over-simplify - a little strained at my crappy abode. The husband was actually being very decent, but his mother was behaving like she was taking out the trash every single day, behind a simpering mask of totally insincere friendliness. 

The husband and I had one shared goal - don't fuck up the kids with our divorce. No fighting, no tug-of-war. He wanted custodial rights, he's a great father, they were in great schools.

I agreed.

I had to decide if I wanted to get stuck in Texas, living in some shitty apartment, or head back home to Jersey after my journey to Idaho. I couldn't stay in Texas, I'd hated each of the ten years I lived there. I felt like I was losing my mind the entire time, from the isolation and never being around my friends and family, while in a marriage that was making both of us unhappy, any time we tried to be more than friends or co-parents.

Yes, I was going to leave my kids. Yes, I feel like a horrible person. But with every possible thing considered, it was the best choice for the boys and how it makes me feel is kind of irrelevant.

Fortunately, our kids are handling everything well. When I talk to them they have stories to tell, silliness to share and lots of affection to give. I give their dad a lot of credit for this.

~~~~~

My last night arrived, like an apocalypse.

The boyfriend and I ended up having a drink and a chat outdoors at my hotel. It was an beautiful moment - which his family decided to crush. His mother demanded he return home. I was so utterly sick of all the drama of his family behaving as though we were 15-year-olds caught fucking under the bleachers at Homecoming, that I decided to go with him.

I thought that maybe if his parents met me, and saw that I was a real person, rather than some demon from hell, I could win them over.

We arrived and the boyfriend went straight inside, while I played with the dogs. Within minutes, the mother flew out the door, shrieking at me like I was running at her with a hatchetknifegun on a torchtruncheon.  I introduced myself, offered my hand and told her everything was okay, and I wasn't there to do anything but meet her.

Her response was to continue the shrill, deranged noises. I was only able to understand parts of what she was saying, phrases such as "you're not welcome here!", "no, no, no!", "I don't want to meet you!" and "get off of my property!"

As I stood there attempting to calm her with soothing tones, she grabbed my arm and tossed me to the gravel like a god damned rag doll.

I sat up, but remained down. I'd pissed myself a little, which made me feel especially dignified as I brushed tiny rocks off myself. One of the dogs came to comfort me. The rabid female human ran back indoors, screaming that she was going to get her weapons. I waited.

Eldest and next-to-youngest brother - whom I had just met - tried to take me back to my hotel. I refused to get in a car with them. The whole thing was so damned beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I was nearly paralyzed with incredulity.

The father ran out next, yelling and jabbing his finger toward me, throwing insults - telling me I had to leave. I refused to go unless I could see the boyfriend again, so he collected him, shoved him in the back seat of the car. I was driven to my hotel as I sat in the front, twisted around in my seat to watch the young man weep while his father disparaged me and every bit of my DNA for the entire ride.

He called me "young lady" while reminding me that I was a full-grown woman with children. He accused me of being a predator who just came to get what I wanted out of his innocent son, then claimed I was invited by that same precious jewel to Idaho under false pretenses. It was a bullshit cocktail of crazy, that ended in him threatening to call the police if I didn't get out of the car.

I was - just as on my first night - dumped there alone, late. I couldn't convince the boyfriend to come back, and he broke up with me via Facebook message as I sat on the curb, where the best wifi signal existed.

When he came in the morning to take me to the airport, he brought me a sandwich. The bread was toasted. I have no idea why that detail sticks with me so damned much. "I said I loved you, but I don't want you anymore. Here's a cotto salami and cheese with mustard and mayo on toasted whole grain bread. Take a bite. It'll soothe all that ... stuff you're suffering."

On the way to Spokane, he made several wrong turns. I missed my flight. I had to spend $400 extra in re-booking fees, and spend the night in the airport alone - which did not allow anyone to remain in the secured area past 7pm when the shops close. I fitfully and cautiously slept on a bank of seats not meant for sleeping, next to a stranger who did not rob or rape me. A highlight.

All told, I spent about 30 hours in airports and flying back to Texas, actually hoping every plane I boarded would crash. An added bonus was the fact my favorite jeans had disintegrated during my trip, and I was stuck with a lightly piss-soaked pair of corduroys to trot around in, whilst lugging a heavy duffel bag and my purse from one terminal to the next. Not to mention the pain in my side from being tossed.

I arrived, mercifully, in west Texas - the husband picked me up at the airport and took me to grab some supplies to get through the night, without a grumble. He took me to check into the scary motel I'd booked - I was banned from my mother-in-law's house. Persona non grata everywhere. I couldn't even go there to hang out with my kids during the day, although their father took me out to dinner and for a visit with them in the evenings.

While in Texas, it was explained to me by the boyfriend that my appearance was not up to par. I am not quoting him verbatim. It was more cruel than that. It was later explained that he only ever felt friendship toward me. You can imagine my reaction, after months of explicit declarations of love, and discussions about a future together. It was like being thrown a surprise party where after the lights are turned on, you're pelted with dried dog shit to the soundtrack of giggles.

After a week, with the undeserved help of the husband - who'd also made all of my arrangements, along with providing directions that didn't get me lost - I packed up a U-Haul with all of my pointless belongings, and set out for another 30 hours of absolute delight to drive myself to Jersey, with a night spent near Memphis.

If you're going to get a divorce, make sure it's from someone who will sneak a
note like this puppy onto your window after he says goodbye.

... and case of emergency, wear a hat that opens beers.

Airport turned into a sweet memory as I drove. I became so good at Airport, but never got even a little bit better at Truck. Nico hate Truck.

On the second leg, by the time I hit Manassas, Va (3-1/2 hours from home), and I hit heavy traffic, I was more ready to drive into a rock face than I've ever been in my life.

It still seems like an appealing idea, but not because of a boy. Because I gambled and lost everything.

~~~~~

Some of the things I lost, though, I was glad to lose. I lost my fear of flying, and my fear of meeting new people. I'm not afraid anymore to be left alone in a place I've never been. Almost nothing scares me anymore, except maybe turning into a raging asshole.

I had a dream the other night that illustrated that to me in a very odd and brutal way. This may not be for everyone to read, so you've been warned.

I walked into a motel room and was followed in by four very blond younger men. I looked at them with mild curiosity. One of them pushed me down on my bed, and another grabbed my arm and pinned me down. I was quizzical - it was as though I couldn't work out what was happening, even as the third one positioned himself between my legs.

The first one explained they were going to rape me. I shrugged and waited, without giving a struggle. I couldn't fight off four men anyway. This incensed the one pinning me to the bed, so he started shouting in my face, telling me that now they were going to beat the shit out of me.

Before more than one of them could get to me, someone walked in, interrupting. I simply walked out of the room and sorta wandered around, not sure where to go. I walked back when the police arrived, to give a report - and the thing I was most upset about was that no one seemed interested in hearing my story.

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Turbulence (part2)

I couldn't stay in the room, so I ran down and outdoors, pacing the street in front of my hotel, trying to imagine a circumstance in which I could be near the older brother again without trying to rip out his beating heart and punch it down his throat. It was a true struggle.

I'd spotted a convenience store around the corner during my stomp/cry/blind rage fest, and once it opened, I bought beer. I was determined to sleep. Sleep refused to give me satisfaction. When the bar opened below me, I popped downstairs, demanded vodka and was obliged by an older lady who seemed of surly disposition. I learned during my stay there that she was actually hilarious and delightful.

I spent just about that entire day on a bar stool, meeting most of the employees, some locals, and trying to convince the boyfriend via text messages to find a way to come see me, to no avail. Not even when ...

In the evening, an older guy - who was known by the locals to make a habit of bar-hopping up and down the lane - thought that buying me a drink meant I belonged to him. It was simply mildly irritating at first, but quickly turned unsettling as the drunker he got, the less he was able to understand what a shove and the phrase "stop pawing at me, knucklehead." meant. I was forced to threaten violence. He understood this to mean I wanted his entire body pressed against mine. At this point, the off-duty waiter stood on one side of me while the very scary and large off-duty chef stood on the other, and the small but not-to-be-tangled-with bartendress bounced him, deliciously.

This is when I fell irrevocably in love with that town, as well as my newly-discovered necessity-is-the-mother-of-survival ability to be publicly social and make friends. The people there took me in, and made sure I was safe and rarely alone.

~~~~~

The boyfriend and I had often discussed our age difference and the fact that I had children. He seemed unperturbed by both. He has a personality that seems game for and open to anything, so it was easy to believe.

I warned him repeatedly that while I was lucky to have my father's young-looking face genes, I was still actually 40 years old, with two children - and that neither was I genetically blessed with snap-right-the-fuck-back-like-it-never-happened skin, nor was I a petite girl. He told me repeatedly that I was beautiful.

~~~~~

On my second full day, the boyfriend's father dropped him off at my hotel for a few hours before he had to go to work. He was still reliant upon his family for rides while his car was being repaired, so I was a big fan of his father for bringing him.

Once his car was fixed (on my fourth full day), he managed to visit whenever he wasn't working - but his family was still having paroxysms about him spending the night (although he still remained for a couple of them) because in their logic-soaked wisdom, one can only fornicate after bedtime. I am forced to agree, since everyone I know has their most unseemly and perverted sexual experiences while unconscious and drooling against a pillow, next to someone doing exactly the same.

But we had a lot of good times, just being strange people sharing the same space. We clicked, and he made me feel even more beautiful in person than he had before we met. I felt at ease around him, and I dreaded the end of my visit.

One of my favorite experiences - initially - was visiting his parents property to meet all of his pets. I greeted his three dogs and he and I spent time walking around as they played. I stared at his view of the mountains as he picked raspberries from his yard and handed them to me. I met his fluffy cat, his blond ferret. A low-key, yet beautiful experience. Until ...

The eldest brother walked outside, stared hard at the two of us just standing there together, yet separated by more than mere inches, and shook his head judgmentally before he walked inside the parents house. As I was attempting to take a photo of one of the ugliest toads I'd ever seen, oldest and youngest brother emerged and approached. I put my camera down and waited.

The youngest spoke, in a halting manner, not making eye contact, only gesturing in my general vicinity. I barely heard a full sentence before I realized I was being kicked off the premises. I had a split second where I considered rushing, confronting - but rejected that in favor of restraint. Instead, while the brother was still mid-sentence, I walked - quickly - to the car, flipping the bird while not looking back. You can take the girl out of Jersey ...

This was not the first and certainly not the last lovely moment that family decided to pulverize, without spending a single second getting to know me.

(part3)

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Turbulence (part1)

I'm feeling turbulent, yet docile. As if the fight has been beaten out of me, or I just used up too much of my stores, in too short of a time - and I feel sick from it.

I went on an adventure. I never do that. I stay inside, where it's safe. "Not inside" may have its merits, but outside ate me alive. I guess I didn't know how to do it. Here's the story of how my life unfolded from July 5th to the present.

~~~~~

I arrived at the smallest airport I've ever seen, two hours early. It took me less than a minute to get through the security checkpoint. There was a sign in the two-gate terminal pointing toward a restaurant, which was a few vending machines, two of which were done broke. So I sat, awkwardly waiting, knowing I had three planes to board before I'd be finished traveling - sober - as is not my habit for getting someplace via flying titanium death tube.

I was simply determined to get to my destination and receive every moment crisp and sharp. The experience needed to be permanently seared into my memory.

I choked back a full-blown panic attack as the last flight was about to land, and stepped off and out with a warrior's confident resignation, ready to meet my victory or doom.

Searching, I heard my name. It was him. I dropped my bag and we exchanged a ... public hug. He told me later I'd made a desperate, quiet screech when I spotted him. Probably. We trotted straight to his car, and while driving, we decided to get food. I tried not to stare at him, but failed. His head is truly and spectacularly enormous.

The drive lingered, as they do when you're sat next to a man you've just met, and you haven't a clue what they're thinking about the much older woman who's been instantly dropped into their physical world.

Suddenly, he misses the road and we're hitting something on the median. He's shredded his tire and all I can do is giggle, especially when as we're hobbling and vibrating to a parking lot, his rear view mirror pops off and hits my leg.

Parked, I watch him, gracefully hopping, attempting to fix the tire. The shitty jack collapses, dropping the car and pinning his hand - which he assures me is okay. He has to call his family for assistance. We wait, while the chemistry and tension is unbelievable and new to me.

His oldest and youngest brother arrive, largely ignoring me. After much effort, the tire is replaced, and we discover the car won't start. After even more effort, we're forced to abandon the vehicle and all pile into the same car, bound for my hotel.

~~~~

We started talking in February, specifically Valentine's Day. He was like a dream - strange, enthusiastic, intelligent, hilarious, witty, and good-looking. He wasn't tall, but I like short guys. We clicked instantly, and we fell into a relationship of sorts very quickly. I attempted to end it early on - I was still married, albeit not happily (for either of us), he was significantly younger than me and the last thing I wanted was my heart broken, or a messy situation.

But I couldn't stay away from him, he fascinated me. We continued. I'm such an expert at life.

I had a big choice to make - whether or not he and I worked out - when it was clear we wanted to be totally exclusive and see where it was all going. I had to put a distance between myself and the husband. This set in motion him filing for divorce without discussion - it was probably a long time in coming. I don't blame him.

The boyfriend and I made our plans to meet, where he lived in Idaho. Tickets and hotel booked, we waited.

~~~~~

On the road, the ride with the brothers was pleasant enough. Actually, parts of it were gorgeous - until the eldest brother made a snidely judgmental decree about not knowing what I had planned with his brother, but that the definitely adult man I'd come a great distance at great expense to meet was in no uncertain terms not going to my hotel with me.

To say that I was stunned, panicked, angered and utterly saddened by this news would be like saying Judy Garland is just a teeny bit a gay icon, maybe possibly. I was ready to use brute strength to remove body parts from anyone getting in my way. But I had to show restraint.

I was dumped at my hotel, 'round about 2:30am, left to fend for myself for an indefinite duration. I was in a strange town with no friends except the one being ripped away from me. I had no telephone in my room, nor did I have cell service. I was stranded, with no knowledge of the lay of the land.

~~~~~

The boyfriend - an atheist - had explained that his family was very religious. I knew the oldest brother was overly religious - on a scale of "a bit churchy" to "oh my god, did he just chuck a bible at my head and call me a irredeemable sinner?" - this guy was at an 11. Roughly a "no way, that's almost funny, yet I'm scared. Ha ha. Ha. Um."

He also warned that his mother was ... well, this is not his particular phrasing, but I'll call it "aggressively and most assuredly fucking nuts to the point of having a cadre of squirrels chasing her, on the daily."

I also was made well aware that his two youngest brothers thought I was a hideous beast of an old lady, who was apt to ruin his life somehow, but that his dad was cool with me.

Ha ha. Ha.

(part2)
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