Just don't want to wake up some morning and realize that I spent my life blogging, because I would be very poor and very very boring
I am not now, and never have been a Jewish whore to the best of my recollection. Just want to clarify that as it was a Google search term used to find Courting. Didn't look it up because I could have used Jewish and whore in the same post. Hate it when people don't use quotes; just a personal quirk.
Did look up "Gary Null gossip" because I know I have never talked about him. Met him at one of the few singles things I have ever attended; brunch with Gary Null. He's boring, arrogant, pompous, and I could go on but why? Had I been interested in talking to anybody I couldn't because Null never shut up.
Every time I pass his picture at GNC or one of those places, I remember going to a museum opening with my parents who were friends with the curator's parents. Talked to a really nice girl who was sick of meeting artists and asked if I wanted to go to the Null brunch with her.
As Zachary was no longer following me everywhere, I was beginning to desire something more than a one night stand. Yes I did them and liked them. Tough I had heard of AIDS and was sure that Patrick had it, people were just learning how it was transmitted. Nobody thought straight non drug users could get it, or nobody wanted to think that.
Patrick wasn't diagnosed until the summer of 1984 when I would be engaged to brilliant lawyer/PHD in AI/musician.
We had met three months before when I began working at my company's headquarters. This time I waited three weeks before I began to date him, and three more weeks before we began to live together. Three weeks after that he asked me to marry him.
It was my fifth serious proposal and I had only been legally married once. How many proposals does a woman get in her life? Why did marriage talk always have to enter into a relationship so quickly? I knew in my heart, while I wouldn't be unfaithful, I would do everything possible to sabatoge it.
He loved talking me to expensive restaurants. I wanted to go to downtown scene restaurants; he wanted Windows on the World. At the time there was only one really great table with views. The maitre de gave it to us every time we were there. We looked very much in love.
This was the sweetest relationship I had ever been in. We went out almost every night. He made his own hours and could sleep until noon; I had to be at work by 8:30. Since we usually came home after two he was amazed by this and would tell everybody. I smiled and said little. He and his friends had all gone to undergrad school at the University of Chicago. His friends bothered me as they assumed that I wasn't their intellectual equal. I had graduated from Boston University which was third rate by their standards.
I was eight year older than him, and wanted to write down answers on index cards to questions I knew his friends were going to ask me; geared I guess to my lower intellect. I wasn't about to be that overtly rude, or to possibly entertain them.
"No, I had never been to Woodstock."
Dirt, mud and no toilets. Though I turned down an offer to dress as a nurse and fly in a helicopter there, where there would be toilets. Why? I didn't want to fly in a helicopter, and I didn't want to have to pretend to be a nurse. What if something happened to somebody and I would have to take care of him? But I wasn't about to explain that.
His friends learned that I just might be brighter than most of them. I could out talk them when in the mood, and give the snidest most clever answers to their late night philosphical discussions. They were drunk and/or stoned; I was cold sober. It was the only way I could go to work in the morning, and function.
I had never been the older woman before. I came to this relationship used and wary. It only showed on the inside.
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