Learning About Love - The Hard Way - Part 4

Please make sure to read parts one, two and three before you get sucked into this

My teenage boy brain insisted that she was the one. She had never had sex, never drank, never done drugs, never snuck out of her house, never ditched school….and I was the one to show her how it is all done.

Our relationship was good…while it lasted. I taught her that blow jobs on demand were “what people in love do.” I taught her that slinking up to the college guy outside of the liquor store and putting on a cute smile so he’d buy us beer was the greatest gift a girl could give her man. I taught HER that sneaking out of her house late at night, and walking the ¾ miles to my house, to have sex with me in the woods was best, cuz I would have more energy for her. I taught her that …well…I won’t get into the real heavy stuff. I think you all get my drift.

Anyway, I can honestly (and now shamefully) say that I thoroughly corrupted her. Only a few months into our relationship she; smoked cigarettes, drank on a regular basis, smoked pot here and there, coned beer out of unsuspecting college students, ditched school, snuck out of her house at night and put my sexual gratification above anything else.

It was not long after my step father walked in on …her kneeling before me in my mother’s home office, that I broke up with her. Honestly, I think I did it because I was starting to get more attention from a lot of other girls (she had a tendency to discus our sex life with all of the other girls at school). To top everything off…as payback for me breaking up with her, she asked my younger brother out (and he said yes) and proceeded to have sex with him for about 2 weeks before that faded away.

Now…if you have read all of the parts of this series, you’ll understand that I had finally learned a thing or two.

I moved to NYC shortly afterwards and proceeded to spend the next 5 years just being a single (dog) guy in his mid to late teens. I had no serious relationships…but did have a lot of fun. I guess that is why they say that you have to ‘live a little’ before you settle down.

The End…for now.

Learning About Love - The Hard Way, Part 2

Make sure to read Part 1 before this one.

On our 15 block walk back home, we exchanged a few “I am the man” nods…but did not say much to one another. Once we got home, our father wanted to know the scoop. We filled him in to the best of our ability and then went into our room. Antsy and pacing around the room, I did not know how long I could put off calling her. I need to know if we were going to see each other again. I needed to know if she really liked me. I needed to know if there was a chance of a long distance relationship. I was dying. After about an hour and a half…I was defeated. I caved and called the number that she wrote on my hand.

After a few short rings, the sound of her sweet voice filled my ear. I struggled for words. A few seconds later I was comfortable speaking again. She had a weird way of calming me. I adored that in her.

We saw each other a few more times before I headed back home to New Hampshire. During these visits we kissed twice, we sat in her room for hours talking and listening to music, we agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend and we agreed to call and write to each other frequently.

Once home, I bragged to all of my friends (all that would listen) about how "I picked up the hottest girl in New York and now she is my girlfriend." I don’t think many of them believed me…until the day that I got my first letter from her. It was the sweetest love letter I had ever gotten and it had a Polaroid picture of her in front of Tower Records. My friends, after seeing her picture, both believed and, from then on, looked up to me.

After a few weeks, it was time for me to go upstate to my boarding school. I did not like that idea of being that much further away from ‘my love’ but I had no choice. The adjustment to living at school was tough, but was made much easier with the picture of Vanessa on my desk and the letters I received EVERY day from her. I literally got about 40 letters from her in the first 2 months of school.

After a few more months, and as the letters slowed in frequency, I received the letter that I hoped would never come. The Break Up Letter. I was crushed. I know that I had only known her for a handful of months and that I’d only actually seen her in person 5 or 6 times and she lived 10 hours away…but still. I moped around for a week or so hoping that I’d get another letter…which never came.

The next two years I spent flirting and having flings with all of the teachers’ (age appropriate) children and a few girls from neighboring towns. I suppose it was the experimental phase…where I needed to know where I stood as far as picking up girls and handling short term relationships. It was quite fun while it lasted (barring the time I got caught with the headmaster’s daughter in the bathroom of the church.) but I knew that when I got back home, I was ready for something more.

...More to come

Learning About Love - The Hard Way

Daddy Geek Boy’s recent post really got me thinking…thinking about my childhood and old relationships.

It not only re-hashed memories of my first ‘true love’ (Sydney something) who moved out of state 3 days after we started ‘going together.’ I had liked her for a long time (at least a month) before I got up the nerve to ask her out. Yeah…my timing sucked. We could have had a whole month together. The way that my 7th grade mind processed that badly timed and handled relationship was this: I would no longer fear rejection and if I liked someone…they knew it at the same time as I did.

This led me into quite a difficult to sum up stage.

It was the summer between 7th and 8th grade and 2 of my siblings and I were with our father in NYC and browsing through the aisles at Tower Records. All of the sudden my brother (2 years my junior) rammed his elbow into my ribs. As I raised my fist above my head, ready to open the flood gates upon him I grunted, “What?!...the hell was that for?” Not at all scared of the impending fist in the face…he just pointed. There were two girls a few rows over…looking up at us and giggling.

Holy shit they were hot! I mule kicked my sister so that she would get away from us, and proceeded to shyly look over at them and then smile and look away. This continued for a few minute…until I was brought back to reality by a tap on my shoulder. It was my father. I thought he was going to totally ruin this…a kind of tendency he has. But he didn’t. He handed me $5 and said, “Go buy those cute girls a Coke or something…and meet us at home before dark.”

My brother and I were in shock…starring at one another as our father and sister left the store. We grinned and then continued with our little eye game with the girls. Then it hit me…a flash of Sydney. I was not going to let this opportunity get away. Noticing that we had drifted into the Opera section, we, needing to collect ourselves, headed for the door, looking at the girls over our shoulders a few times before getting out o the street.

Once outside, we propped ourselves against the side of the building and began throwing ideas around as to what we’d say to them when the came out. All of the sudden the emerged from the store, saw us and smiled. As they neared us I could not believe how good looking they were.

After a very awkward greeting and introduction, the two of them agreed to go for a soda with us. While standing in line at the hot dog cart, we exchanged bits and pieces of info about ourselves.

Not thinking about the fact that this was New York and we lived in New Hampshire…or the fact that at the end of the summer I would be going to boarding school about 4 hour further north. We were here and they were interested.

Vanessa (mine) had super long black hair that swayed back and forth across the top of her ass, hazel eyes and a developing body that made me stare a bit more than I should have. Her friend Nancy (my brother’s) was a strawberry blonde with a Brooklyn accent and beautiful blue eyes.

We sat on a nearby bench, talking about what we’d been doing, music that we liked and how long we were going to be here in the city. It was bliss. I remember when Vanessa’s father came over and told them that it was time to go. I was crushed. I sadly watched as she and her friend trailed behind her father…looking back at us. As I sat there thinking of yet another way too short relationship, she came running back and grabbed my hand. Whipping a pen out of her pocket, she wrote down her phone number and whispered in my ear to call her later.

I think I about peed myself. With my mouth gaping open and an odd grimace on my face, I waved as she trotted to catch up with her father. Once out of sight my brother and I turned towards each other and proceeded to give each other a high five followed by the most ridiculous end zone dance imaginable.

...More to come

Peeing in a Tornado

OK….What gives?

Let’s just say that reflecting on things…sitting or lying down trying to assess my current situation… has become quite the nightmare of a task.

Basic summary:

I am unemployed.

I have been looking for work for about a year and have literally come up dry. I won’t say that I have been out on the streets banging on doors every day, but I have sent my resume to thousands of people and still….nothing.

I know that the economy and the current job market suck right now…and that huge numbers of people are out of work…which just makes it that much harder.

There seem to be many reasons that I am not finding work:
Over-qualified
No experience
Felony record

Now, over the past 25 years, I have done the following for work; Restaurant (dishwasher, server, bar back, assistant manager), Construction (roofer, grunt for wood framing contractor), Mental Health (worker and then manager for 2 different group homes for mentally handicapped adults), Public Relations (in-house for House of Blues, then started a PR firm which I ran for 8 years), Internet/Magazines (co-founded 2 successful online magazines and acted as Executive Editor for another), Professional (General administration and then promoted to Operations Manager for an LA based financial consulting firm.)

When I apply to PR/marketing companies…I usually get, “too qualified” or “we found someone who better matches our needs.”
When I apply to offices for Admin jobs…I did not work in that field long enough or I am over qualified (what the fuck does that mean?...both over and under????)
When I apply at McDonalds and grocery stores (which I have) I get turned away upon them seeing a felony record.
When I apply for general labor jobs, I do not have current experience…15 years ago does not seem to count.
…WHATEVER… The point is, I CAN”T FIND A FUCKING GOOD JOB!
(**if you know of anything…feel free to let me know)

Am I going to have to move to freakin Greece and become a fisherman? Try out for Deadliest Catch, leverage everything I can and give it a shot as a professional poker player?

What?...you ask what my dream job is? I would start as a crew member and then an owner of a sportfishing charter…fishing the big boys off southern Baja. Shit…I’d take cleaning the docks in Marina Del Rey.

AND THEN…..My (pending) divorce…
This case has been going on for more than 3.5 years. She has a (well she is on her 5th) lawyer and I (since the start) can’t afford one and did not think that there was enough to argue about to really need one. MY BAD! So, I am still not, technically, divorced (although the judge granted the dissolution more than a year ago.) All I want is to have fair / standard time with my boys. I suppose that if I got a job, I could hire an attorney and get this whole thing over with…but scroll back to the top.

With 6 kids – it is hard not to feel like a total fucking loser. The situation is absolutely Maddening!

Well…..enough of this pity / venting shit and back to actually feeling like shit.

Normal Childhood - Military Training (part 2)

By the time morning hit, we could hardly wait to see if we’d caught anything (or anyone) in our traps. We ignored the stealth policy as we bolted through the woods to the location of our creations. One by one, we closely inspected them, noticing nothing but a few random piles of animal scat and a small handful of porcupine quills.

Disappointed with having caught nothing we regrouped for a new strategy. After thoroughly discussing the mater in detail, we thought that the best plan was to lure someone into one of the traps. Yes…I was the one with 3 sisters and it was decided that little sisters make great prey.

Upon returning from my neighbor’s house we approached my middle sister, taunting her with a large bag of Twizlers and candy corn, we told her to count to 100 and then if she could find us at our fort that she could have our bag of sweetness. She began counting and we bolted into the forest snickering at our own genius.

A few minutes later, as we had taken up position in eyesight of each of our traps, we began to hear the crunching and twig snapping of a non-trained civilian tromping through the woods. Excited beyond belief, we all sat completely still, awaiting our catch.

A few seconds later, she appeared on the path…only 20 feet or so from our spring snare. Prancing up the path with thoughts of mouthfuls of candy, she neared the hidden danger. All of the sudden, we heard it. She had kicked the trip wire and *swoosh* the slip knot had tightened around her feet and she was hoisted into the air. Screaming and struggling, head bobbing a few feet off the ground we all emerged from the bushes, laughing and impressed with ourselves.

We stood in a circle around he, patting each other on the back, completely ignoring her cries for help. After a few brief comments and a bit more laughing, we decided that it would be best to leave her there for a while. Backing away and heading out on the path towards our house, we peaked over our shoulders just to see her squirming, and tears streaming from her eyes and landing in the cushion of pine needles that lined the forest floor.

We got back to my house and in an attempt not to tip off my mother, we busied ourselves with our bikes and the construction of a jump at the end of the driveway. About an hour later, after one of my friends launched off the jump and crashed into a tree at the edge of the woods, we all looked at one another with a touch of fear in our eyes and we took off into the woods. We had forgotten about my sister who had been hanging upside down in the middle of the porcupine and fox infested woods for close to an hour.

When we arrived, we saw my sister, still crying, but too tired to struggle. It seemed that she had just enough energy to tilt her head enough to see us approaching. Her sobs were faint, but at least she was still alive. We quickly released the knot at the base of a nearby tree and my sister fell with a thud to the ground. As she got up and began to stumble down the path she yelled to us that MOM was going to kill us and that we were going to be in big trouble. Chasing after her, with the bag of candy held out in front of us, we bribed her with the contents of the bag along with mild threats of further violence if she did tell.

As far as I know, our secret lived on and from that point on we re-adjusted out traps to only catch animals…which we did.

Normal Chilhood - Military Training

We gathered at the edge of the woods as the sounds of clanking dishes filled the air. Full from the dinners we had all just finished, we sat and waited for the last two members of our squad.

All dressed in our fatigues (or as close as we could get) we had our briefing. The seven of us agreed that minimal talking/noise …and of course only using our code names would be the only way to keep our top secret mission intact.

We spread out slightly as we entered the woods. For the next ten minutes all we could hear was the faint crackling of pine needles beneath out boots and a random twig snapping as we pushed our way through the trees to our hide-out.

The air was still, breezes blocked by the acres of pine trees on all sides. We entered our 2 story fort one at a time, without making a sound. Once we were all inside, we began planning our day’s activities. In low, but commanding, whispers we discussed the three traps we were going to set along the paths to our hideaway.

*We’d seen enough Vietnam and random other war movies to know the best ones to ensnare the mistaken or intentional intruders.

Over the next 5 hours all seven of us worked diligently to perfect our military works of art. We split up into 3 groups; Pain, Sniper and Grunt worked on the bungee pit, Hammer, Red and Cap worked on the spring snare while Gunny, Top, Nuke and Camo perfected the suspended log (or mace trap).

**I will not tell you which of the above my code name was.

We regrouped as it began to get late in the day and began rounds to check out all of the work that had been done. All of the traps were set…satisfied with our ingenious success, we all headed home for dinner.

Around 8PM, we got back together, armed with flashlights to inspect our newly crafted traps…and to make sure that they were still in place.

The bungee pit was the first that we got to. It was just fine…a 4 foot deep ditch, which spanned the width of the path, covered with branches, twigs and leaves – hiding the bounty of sharpened wooden spikes that were positioned at the bottom, awaiting their first prey.


The spring snare was next. It was set with a young white birch tree, pulled back with a very sensitive network of ropes, a large slip knot and trip wire. We had high hopes for this one. We tripped it a few times and were thoroughly impressed.


Lastly we came to the mace trap. This was the hardest to set as the log, suspended 20 feet in the air, had to have weighed at least 100 pounds. Held in place only by a small stick attached to the rope acting as the trip wire…this was a sensitive one and we were all very careful not to trip it by accident.


Stay tuned to the ending of this story…in my next post.

(until then...go read the first, second and third installments about my childhood)

Time Travel...To The 70s and 80s

A bit random…but I am just going to throw it out there…

Is it only me or do any of you with you could just go back in time to the late 70s or early 80s?

I loved that time…I mean sure…I got into some trouble and drove my parents absolutely insane…but I was a boy growing up in rural New Hampshire and there were no video games, addicting TV shows, cell phones to distract us.

I loved cruising around with my friends, hanging out, causing trouble and having good old fashion boy fun.

These days things are so much more complicated…yes, I know that much of that comes from being a father to 6 kids, but even when I put myself in any of their shoes…with the texting and Internet shit that they get into, the drama with all of the cliques in schools, the gangs, teens driving all over creation, etc. it is enough to drive a man nuts!

We just grounded our 12 year old and she has absolutely no clue what to do. She can’t go hang out with friends and can’t use her cell phone. We told her that she could use the house phone to call and talk to her friends and she said, “No thanks…I don’t want to talk to them…I want to text them.”

How fucking impersonal are cell phones and IMing, email and all of the other Internet communications making our kids?

We just allowed her to use AIM and she has been at the computer for 3 hours and counting….WTF!?

Now I guess we will have to limit her use. I know that kids don’t have the self control that we wished they did…shit I don’t have the self control that I wished I did…but the fact of the matter is that ….when I was a kid, and none of that stuff was around…life just seemed much more innocent, fun and …shit….easier.

‘Normal’ childhood? - Part Three - The Bat and the Broom

Be sure to read part one and part two before this one

At the ripe age of about 9, and after causing some sort of stink at the dinner table, I was sent to my room while everyone else finished their dinner and had their ice cream.

Now, we lived in an old Victorian house and my room, the one that I shared with B1 was on the top floor …the converted attic.

Sitting up there sulking on the edge of my bed, wondering if I could coerce B2 to sneak me up some ice cream after dinner, I was startled by a freaking bird flying right through my open window. As it zipped back and forth around my room, spinning in circles, seemingly very disoriented, this ‘bird’ swooped down and got its feet caught in my hair.

Pause for image of said hair. (and maybe a bit of laughter)

Completely freaking out, running in circles, yelling for my mother and flinging my arms up to try to dislodge this hair intruder….I hear my mother yelling up the stairs, “I told you to be quiet up there…or you’ll stay up there all night!”

Continuing my cries for help, my mother stormed her way up to my room, cursing me enough so that I did not know who to be more scared of…this beast clawing at my head…or the one about to bust through my bedroom door with a belt.

A second later my mother burst though my door, with belt in hand and a lung full of air to scream at me. Upon seeing the flapping, tangled mess that was once my head, she screamed, “BAT!” and swiftly ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Shocked that A. It was a bat in my hair and not a bird…and B. that my mother would run out and just leave me there. I continued screaming and running around the room. A minute or so later she barged back into my room…armed with a broom. She march straight at me and began bashing me on the head with the broom…worried more so about hitting the bat than the structural integrity of my cranium. Once she successfully knocked the bat loose from my hair she dragged my whimpering body out of the room (as if I were a wounded soldier being saved by a war hero) and slammed the door once again.

After pleading with the man that lived next door, the bat was evicted from my room. The story ends with a haircut appointment for me early the next morning.

As the stories are seemingly endless…I’ll continue with another next time – Military Training

‘Normal’ childhood? – Part Two - Fork Dinner

Be sure to read part one before this one

We were all sitting around our gi-freaking-normous dinner table one night and B1 and S2 were sitting at the head and the foot of the table. It was the usual banter, bickering and chaos that it had always been and our parents had grown fond of eating their dinner at the kitchen bar.

At the table, something B1 said to S2 made her pissed. I, to this day do not know what it was but she was furious. The tone between them became more like Carrie and Freddy Kruger going at it and the rest of us just sat there staring at the two of them…it was actually getting pretty good….until, out of nowhere, S2 picked up her fork and (as if she’d been secretly studying with Ninjas) threw her fork across the table with such precision that it stuck, squarely in my brother’s forehead. (The fork mind you, sticking straight out of his head, was about an inch above but directly between his eyebrows)…held there by the 3 prongs that neatly wedged themselves ever so slightly into his forehead.

All of us just sat there …mouths on the floor, eyes open wide with amazement…but nobody said a word…not even the two of them. Our parents, not hearing any more yelling, instantly KNEW something had gone awry, came running in to see what had happened. Both of them stopped abruptly when the saw the fork, that was protruding from B1’s head, drop to the table with a loud clanking sound.

They then ran to him and checked his head and proceeded to load him into the car and off to the emergency room.

After all was said and done, and my brother had no serious injury (except for the line of three dots in the middle of his forehead that were visible for about a year) that story has been told by us all, parents included, with a smile.

Stay tuned for the next glimpse into my childhood… The Bat and the Broom

‘Normal’ childhood? - Part One - The Mini Hulk

When I look back on my childhood, I think of it as a happy, ‘normal’ childhood…just like everyone else who was growing up in the 70s and 80s. We had everything that we needed and parents who loved us and tended to us the way parents should.

Recently I’ve found myself telling wild stories from my childhood, that lead me to believe that we were anything but normal.

Growing up with 5 siblings (3 sisters and 2 brothers) there was always a lot going on and there were always rifts springing up between sets of us. For the most part, our parents just sat back (and now reflecting on it were most likely cracking the fuck up) and letting us sort things out ourselves…as learning experiences.

M=Adoptive Mother
F=Step Father
S1=sister (older by 2 years)
S2=sister (younger by 4 years)
S3=step-sister (younger by 6 years)
B1=brother (younger by 2 years)
B2=step-brother (younger by 4 years)

I will summarize a few of the questionable stories for you over the next week or so. Then you can tell me if my childhood sounds normal to you or not.

‘Normal’ childhood? - The Mini Hulk

I was a bit of an instigator (still am) and would make it a point to pick on (almost to the point of crying) B2. Now being 4 years younger, he knew that standing his ground with me would be a drastic error in judgment…so he never did…until one day. It was right after school and I was mentally jabbing at him and making him feel as close to a pile of dog shit as I could. Then something happened…the boy freaked. His eyes changed. His skin flared up in a deep red and he screamed, “I HAVE HAD IT!” I responded with some bully-ish retort that sent him flying over the edge. With that, he, moving faster than I’d ever seen him move, ran past the wood stove, snatching up the large iron fire poker and proceeded to chase me around the house…swinging at will trying to silence my banter. Realizing how serious he was, by the trail of broken vases and lamps in his wake and the near miss to the back of my head, I found the only lockable room in the house (my parents) and securely locked the door behind me. Sitting on the edge of their bed, listening to his threats of violence…I figured that the homicidal rage would soon subside and we could all go about our day as per the norm.

All of the sudden, my thoughts were interrupted by the crashing sound of the fire poker connecting with the door knob that was currently saving both of us from a great deal of pain. I watched as the knob became looser and looser, heard wood of the door cracking and I knew that it would be any minute that mini Hulk would come crashing through the door.

I took that as a sign that he was not in a frame of mind to calm down and that I should seek refuge elsewhere. I scrambled over to the window and lowered myself as far as a 12 year old could and jumped the remainder of the two story drop…then bolted (with a slight limp) over to a neighbor’s house until my parents got home.

Come back to read the next installment…Fork Dinner