Memories (pt 1?)
And just like that, something slaps me in the feels!
The other day, someone posed a question about a crazy blind date and if anyone in the group had any wild stories to share.
Of course, being me, I did have something memorable to post.
When I was 16, I lived between homes. Sometimes with my mother and one of her 4 husbands, an aunt or uncle, and even my great-grandmother for a portion of my young life. I was like a card that constantly got shuffled in the deck.
Maybe a Tarot deck, but shuffled nonetheless.
When I was barely 16, I was living in Wyoming. Now, that entire state has a population of roughly 500,000 people and has maintained that number for a very long time. There are more antelopes in Wyoming than there are people.
At the time, my mother’s youngest sister had moved to Wyoming and was looking for her next husband and to make her millions. My aunt Betty had been invited to an Amway* event, which was all the rage back then.
Betty had met and started dating her last husband, Joe, and together they decided that being Amway* distributors would be the way to make more money than they would ever need.
It was during this one sign-on event that Betty and Joe met Emil’s sister.
I don’t remember her name, but I’ll never forget his name because of what transpired after the meeting.
My aunt was a very resourceful woman. She didn’t like working and would do almost anything to avoid it. One of those things was marrying someone she thought would let her remain in the princess lifestyle she so adored.
Joe had convinced her that they would be able to make money hand over fist if they just joined Amway* and started their own downline of people to sell the products.
Their upline was a woman who had a brother, and that brother was lonely. His name was Emil.
For whatever reason, Betty convinced him to join and be her “downline” associate, guaranteeing him a date with me, her 16-year-old niece. She had a Polaroid* picture of me because she was proud to show me off.
Emil signed up to sell Amway* products and paid the associated fee because Betty said he could take me on a date.
I wouldn’t say I was a raving beauty, but I was definitely an unspoiled one at 16. My skin was clear, my auburn/red hair was long and flowing, and I was naïve. Really, really naïve.
When the phone rang, and Betty asked to speak to me, I heard a rambling plea that sounded something like this:
“Rosie, just listen. I need you to do me a giant favor. Please, please, please. Your uncle Joe and me need you to go to dinner with this guy. Don’t worry, he’s a nice guy! I promise!!! Just get ready because he’ll be over there in a little while.”
Uh.
“Aunt Betty. Who is this guy? What does he look like? How old is he?”
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“Don’t worry about none of that. I told him you would go out with him because he signed up to sell Amway*, and we need him to get other people to sign up. Just do it, for me!”
Well, I had been raised to do as I was told, and she made it sound like I was going to be okay. All the details she left out, though, those were things I probably should have known.
I dressed. Put on some light makeup because I never really wore it anyway, and waited.
Emil showed up roughly an hour after the phone call.
He was dressed all in white, driving a white Thunderbird. His hair was slicked back with enough Brylcreme* to lubricate the pistons on one of the large coal trucks out at the mine.
His white polyester pants rode up over his ankles because he had them pulled up to just under his chest. The white shirt he was wearing had several open buttons from the neck down, exposing his chest and some of the straggly hairs on it.
White patent leather loafers on his feet looked like they had come straight out of someone’s grandpa’s closet after an estate sale upon said grandfather’s death. No socks.
He smelled of stale coffee, cheap cigarettes, and regret. Probably some Brut* too. And when he smiled at what he perceived to be his “prize” for signing up, I was greeted with fewer teeth than gums.
The man was straight out of Deliverance, looking like he was one banjo away from cannibalism, and I was the main course.
I recoiled at his extended hand. I could smell the decay from his mouth from five feet away, and I was instantly terrified.
Did Betty HATE me? Why and what on earth did she think I would be willing to go anywhere with this… this man?
I made a decision, right there on the spot.
I told him I couldn’t go out with him, and I was sorry, but I had to go back into my house.
One thing about me, I may not be a member of MENSA, but I’m smart enough to know when I’ve been served up for a predator, because he was at least twenty years older than me, and I knew it.
Emil was visibly pissed. Not just pissed, but angry. I had rebuffed his hand and his invitation to dinner.
He looked at me and said, “Don’t you have anything NICE to say?”
I thought for only a moment and replied, “Nice car.”
When I tell you he spat gravel with those tires as he drove away, believe that’s an understatement. I’m sure he was spitting curses, too.
The inevitable call came. My aunt was ANGRY that I didn’t go out with him.
“You cost me one of my downline! You cost me money!!!”
“Sorry, Aunt Betty, but he was OLD. And he didn’t have any teeth!”
I probably dodged many bullets that day, and when I share these kinds of memories, people have a lot to say about them.
It’s important to remember that on my mother’s side of the family, being married off to an older man was commonplace. Betty had married her first husband, Cliff, when she was a teenager. It meant nothing to her to try to get me to do the same, but I have consistently proven that I have a mind of my own and think for myself.
Much to the chagrin of my family members.
