How can I forget the many bizarre, crazy, and benighted times I’ve misled myself into a man’s twin loving arms, and how very much I miss loving every minute of it? How? Why, I squirm as if caught in a velvet trap…well, I could, but my husband is standing right behind me and might ask me what I’m sitting on.
Yes, it’s been nothing but high misadventure for me, especially since I lost my extremely brave and sincere first husband, a wonderful Austrian-American Jew, to combined MS and cancer on February 23, 1985.
I loved him so much…even after more than a dozen intensive, fascinating, and downright roller-coaster relationships before then, my first real commitment, he was still the only man I ever truly loved Anyway, several eventful years and as many nerve-wracking, tumultuous, and sanity-defying relationships later, I landed in the plastic schoolroom seat in front of Remigio, my future second husband, in a five-week Certified Nurse Aide class held at a nursing home near Northgate in Seattle, next to a merrily perking and brewing coffee pot.
My first husband thought he lucked out marrying his sexy young attendant.
In his early thirties, Gary was dying horribly, often in great pain, and I was forced to fall deeply in love with his stubborn courage and what was ebbing away of his once trim and athletic youthful body.
Remigio stopped my new single life cold simply by kicking the frail back of my chair in CNA class-HARD! He received all my undivided attention, distracting me from talking to a fellow classmate, a middle-aged black lady.
Well, Grace, the middle-aged black lady, was only sitting pat.
A hard worker of several years standing, she was being “Grandfathered in” as a CNA, but still had to take the class.
Remigio may have been trying to protect her from me, as I’d been sniffling at her for the last three or four sessions…such was vengeance from Karen the Terrible.
SNIFF!! Grace was sitting to the right front, I was seated to the rear left, and as I’d recently had an extremely weird experience involving three black men and a basketball, I was fitfully “Taking it out” on Grace.
She liked the coffee, but our distantly commiserative relationship as two ladies of nursing was rudely interrupted by the rapid-fire entrance of Remigio’s sneakered foot through the reverberating back of my nearly shattering cheap plastic chair.
I’ve lovingly saved the black marks on the back of my white nursing jacket for years.
Remigio turned out to be a quite engaging and multi-talented Philippino/Hawaiian import, a seventh-degree black belt martial arts expert, a fabulous chef of all regional cuisines and one heck of a lip-locking rugged kisser, in approximately that order.
What can you do when they come at you from behind like that? I tried out assuming there was something nice about him.
Actually, “Mommy” was that little old lady, Carrie, a disabled, fellow “Freckly” dwarf I was working for and living with at the time.
She needed extensive in-home care, and Remigio went right to work helping us move into a larger apartment, even cooking and cleaning for us.
She may have been wandering around at night and screaming her lungs out.
We’re still madly in love, and near Christmas day of 1994 we were blessed by a Pinay from Heaven, our little princess Angela, nut-brown as her Daddy and sporting my chipmunk cheekbones.
I guess I’d suggest that more single white ladies, and any other intrigued parties, try sniffling at nearby black people to see whose attention they furtively attract.
Of course, you may inadvertently attract a black person, which might work out quite well for you, especially if they happen to be an excellent cook – as the husband of a friend of mine turned out to be.
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