10 things I loved about him

I think I'll have to give it a break, this blogging about my past, but not before I tell you about the 10 things I loved about him. They say hate is just perverted love and the opposite of love is indifference, so I guess this makes me a pervert, I don't know, you be the judge.


I have to think back to when we first met, I was a sophomore in High School. If you read my post about Happy? Anniversary, you found out that I married at age 16, and hubby #1 (B) and hubby #2 (J) were best friends, I met them both on my first day of school, when I transfered there because my family had moved. 


I didn't get involved with J until my marriage to B began to sour. You see, choosing to get married because I was pregnant wasn't the right choice, which is hindsight, a precious commodity. B was an abusive husband too, I finally left him the day he kicked me in the crotch, with a booted foot. My mother took me to the hospital, and I remember the humiliation of being examined down there. Nothing they could do really, rest and put ice on it.  


When J found out what B had done to me, he came to visit, and offer his condolences. I wonder now if it was pity, or having heard about my swollen genitals turned him on, I'll never know of course. This was the beginning of our relationship. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)


I loved the color of his eyes. Blue as a cornflower, I thought I saw sweetness, and happiness there. Those blue eyes shone with the brightness only a hero can have. I can still see those blue eyes, every time I look at my daughter's face.

I loved the way he kissed me, when we first met. Long and lingering, soft and sweet. No hurries, no worries. At 18 years old what did I know about sexual addiction? Nothing. I so utterly confused sex with love that I didn't know I would be dominated by his compulsive, coercive, gotta get me some, behavior. Love is, by the way, blind. 

I loved how big he was, 6'2". I felt protected, safe in his presence, nobody was gonna hurt me if he were around. He wore big shirts and big pants and big shoes, he was big all over, if you get my drift.

I loved his sense of adventure. We had only been seeing each other for about a week, when one night he decided we'd go to Florida! He packed a bag, I packed a diaper bag along with my own and off we went, making it to the state line that night and then continuing our journey the next day. Breakfast was a bag of doughnuts and a carton of milk, to be shared between the 3 of us. My son, sitting in the back seat, there were no baby seats back then, had free range. The horrible expression on J's face when he turned and looked at the mess my son had made with his doughnut, well you've heard that one, if looks could kill. He quickly turned off the interstate, bitched me out and forced me to clean up that mess, right then and there. But I didn't mind too much, it was a nice car.

I loved his independence, his rebellious streak. So it didn't occur to me that upon crossing state lines he was in violation of his probation. He had gotten arrested for possession of drugs, busted as we called it, and they let him off with just probation. His arrest happened before we got hooked up, so it didn't really concern me.

I loved that he took me to places I'd never been before. Seeing the ocean for the first time was exhilarating, seeing palm trees was exotic, going to Miami Beach was extravagant in my Midwestern mind. It was eye-gasm blended with my first orgasm, absolute heaven on earth.


I loved the way he could make a quick decision. He ran out of money on the way home from Florida. Me, I didn't have any money to begin with, I was on Welfare. He traded his camera for a tankful of gas somewhere in Georgia. When we were about to run out of gas again, somewhere in Tennessee, he thought I should be the one to pan-handle, beg, bum whatever you want to call it. A couple of the truckers said I could make $5 if I followed them back to their truck. I was starting to get scared! I collected enough money from nice people and we managed to roll into Ohio, with a few fumes to spare.


I loved the way he took care of things. Once we were back in Ohio he wanted us to be together, live together. He didn't like my apartment too much. He used to joke about there being so many roaches in the bathroom, that they were playing football in there. So we moved into the apartment house that his parents owned, and began our life together.


So, you see, there were many things I loved about him. When he got fired from his job, for showing up inebriated, we just started our own business. He was resilient, flexible. I just wish I had known more about the downward spiral of alcoholism, the damage drug abuse would inflict and the real core of domestic violence, the power and control that would erode any love I thought I had. 


I am much older and wiser now. In the years since the death of this man I have learned many things; about myself, about life, about love. I have learned that love is a choice, not just a feeling. That sex is sex, you can love sex, but sex is NOT love. You can love the person you are having sex with, and that is making love. 


Love is about respect, and self respect must be there first. Respect is not a given, it must be earned. I've learned I cannot change anyone but myself, and it's the hardest job in the world! I've learned that I can be loved, not everyone is out to get me. I've learned to love myself because I'm the only one I've got. And lastly, I've learned that God really does love me, why else would I be here telling you this story?