Tune into FCCFREERADIO.com today at 4pm. We’ve got a show planned, maybe a good one, maybe a shite one. Is it the break-up episode you’ve all been waiting for? We’ll see, Dr. B has been home for less than 24 hours from his Georgia tour and are we at each others throats?
Chantel learns the world is her oyster the hard way
This is very long but, thank God, this is the last chapter!
I tired of playing baseball and my knees began to hurt from the dancing in 4 inch heals; I found myself at a cross roads. I released all of my players from the baseball team. Someone from my group suggested I get a boyfriend. I took this as more of a challenge than a suggestion and started dating seriously. I tried all the internet dating sites and found myself sitting across from men who were ready to marry and have children or, unemployed drummers and sometimes sexually confused metro-sexuals. After a few months of that scene I grew annoyed. I received a confusing email composed from someone whom English was obviously not their first language. I consulted with the girls and decided I would go on my final date. If this one didn’t work out, I would officially call it quits on the internet dating front.
Just in case he turned out to be an idiot I suggested a short meeting at a bar close to my house; that way I could get drunk and walk home by myself. As you can tell when all else fails in my life I turn to cocktails which always turns out to be comforting. I walked across the street to the bar and saw a very tall man fighting with an innocent newspaper box. He had obviously tripped over it on his way to the bar and was struggling to set it upright. I laughed hysterically and asked him his name; of course it was my date. Tall and goofy just like I like ‘em. I was sold from the very first time I saw him stumbling all over himself on the curb in front of the bar.
He had a French accent, a big nose and brown hair. I struggled at first to understand him beneath his accent but after a few beers I found I was speaking a strange combination of French and English; exactly like his. The whole time we were together no one could quite understand what he said except me. I translated for him wherever we went, especially with my friends who mused at my new found ability to talk to foreigners and understand the verbally inept. Yeah that’s me; a friend to those who cannot speak any English whatsoever.
H’ was from Switzerland and he was in the banking industry, all very cliché. He wasn’t what you would expect from Switzerland; he was outgoing, friendly, funny and always up for a night out on the town. I think he really liked America. The romantic gestures were over the top and I was swept off of my ex-white trash feet. I went into this relationship with my eyes wide open and an innocence I have never felt before in my life. He surprised me with trips to the theater which he couldn’t understand because the script was in English. He spent hundreds of dollars on dinners several nights a week which usually included oysters; the guy drove me crazy with the oysters. Then he left his stinky cheese in my refrigerator. You know its true love when a Swiss guy leaves his cheese at your house. Every day we spent together I had no idea that I could actually be so happy with another person.
Five months later H’ got a call from his work; he was being transferred to London and had to leave within the week. There were no words for either of us. He delivered the news carefully and with tears in his eyes. I didn’t cry, I quietly kept my feelings to myself. After I left that night I called him and asked him what would happen to us and our relationship, he said that we would make it work, “dees, eez why God invents ze’ plane.” He left within the week, he made many promises but, I slowly resigned myself to never seeing him again. Before he left he upgraded my computer, I had a web camera and high-speed internet so we could have video chats while I was working on my school work or hanging out around my house.
After he left I learned to keep busy. I went back to school, I started writing again, I took up bicycling, running and continued my wine and cheese education. It wasn’t long before he e-mailed me a ticket to London. Of course I was shocked, I never thought for a moment that I would get to go to Europe so soon. I knew that some day I would go but I didn’t know it would be within my 30th birthday.
I will say before I go on; my friends never really quite warmed to my new love. They knew I was in over my head and one of my best girlfriends the now Mrs. C. went toe-to-toe with him in a bar before he left. One of the most heartwarming moments in my life was watching as my five foot eight inch friend walked up to my six foot seven inch boyfriend looked up and pointed her finger at his big nose for a half an hour defending my honor. H’ spent the rest of the time we were together proving that he truly loved me; every move he made he followed it up with “Mrs. C. will truly know I love only you”.
I went to London and H’ met me at the terminal. The reunion was something raunchy romance novels are made of. We caught a plane to France and I ate snails, got drunk and taught H’ the waltz up the Rue de la Madeleine. We took a train to Italy and I rediscovered my love of photography and olive oil and then finally traveled under the Alps where I found out what all the fuss was about. I ate the best cheese I’ve ever had in my life, climbed a glacier and then ate croque madame at the top of Mont Fort after breakfast champagne with his mother. We couldn’t go to Mont Blanc because we were both chain smoking whilst shooting kirsch. Really the best time of my life. The parting was bitter-sweet but I never realized how much fun I had until after the photo’s were developed and all the xanax wore off. I expected that would be the last time I saw him.
I was back home and dove back into my studies. My head was swirling with dreams of the future and H’ did nothing to stop me. He fed my dreams when we would surf the internet together on video chat and pick out houses in Southern France. Of course I wanted to live in Paris so we surfed apartments for sale to soothe my need for city living. Soon Christmas had arrived and I was picking up H’ from the airport in Portland. Our time together was quiet and less a production than it had been before. I felt like we had actually settled into a comfort zone together and we no longer needed grand productions to continue to prove our love to one another. Christmas came and he presented me with a diamond heart pendant and professed his love while my children ripped open their gifts in front of our Christmas tree.
Two of my best girlfriends had moved to Ireland for the year so our next trip was to Ireland to see Mrs. C and Ms. T. H’ was convinced that this would prove his love to Mrs. C. Never again would she question our relationship or his loyalty to me. We went to Ireland to my Motherland. We surprised Mrs. C on a Thanksgiving weekend who had no idea that I was flying from the West coast of the US to Ireland just for the weekend to see her and Ms. T with H’. I spent 72 hours in a pub; I scared the Irish with my ability to drink whisky and Guinness; one day the four of us spent a total of 16 hours drinking and my best friend Ms. T threw up all over the front of him. By the second day I had completely bonded with my Motherland, I even developed some sort of Irish accent, although my friends couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of my mouth; H’ had to begin to translate for me.
The next few months were spent planning our next vacation. Me in Portland, H’ in London and we were surfing the internet for white beaches, lounge chairs and icy drinks with long straws. We decided on Mexico. No grand tours, just a long lounge on a beach so we both could recuperate from our hectic lives. I spent the next two months planning outfits, losing weight and testing the best self-tanners on the market just so I would look fabulous for my love. I can still smell the beach in the Mexico, I can still taste the water and I can still feel how my skin feels under a humid sun covered in the most expensive sunblock I could find.
H’ flew home with me and quickly said good-bye after a couple of days. We talked seriously once we got home and I asked him if he had remained true to me and he asked me if I had remained true to him; we both answered yes. I asked him if he thought that I, my life and, us is what he truly wanted; he said yes. The next day as I left him in the airport, I felt what I could never admit. I felt it the whole time we were in Mexico, something had changed. As I walked away I knew it would be the last time I would ever see him again.
Two weeks went by and, his emails to me dwindled and my emails to him were never answered. He failed to log into our chat program and we rarely talked about my next trip. When he left we were planning on meeting in Paris. I had saved enough money for the trip because I didn’t want him paying for another trip for me; I felt like I really needed to do this for myself and for us. Another two weeks went by and I was out of my head; I had not heard from him at all. I began to panic and finally emailed his brother whom I knew just briefly. Within an hour I received an email from H’. He explained that he was with someone else, living with her and asked me not to hate him. I didn’t reply or I don’t think I did; I really don’t remember very much for the next few days.
I called Mrs. C. who offered to be on the next plane from Ireland. I told her to stay where she was; I dug my own hole, I knew what I was getting into and I knew what the outcome would be. I found myself standing over the Clackamas River the next day throwing rocks at the water hoping to shatter the surface of the river. I felt shattered and I wanted someone else to hurt as much as me. I drove home, I went back to work and I returned to school; I didn’t miss a beat. I never have missed a beat my entire life and I wasn’t going to start.
I booked a ticket to Paris the next week. I booked my hotel in Paris and within a month I had packed my bags, my camera my French language book and left. I wandered the street of Paris purposely avoiding all the sites where we went. I rode the metro and roamed the cemeteries taking photographs. I’ve always found cemeteries to be the most comforting environment when I’m hurt. I spent most of my childhood roaming cemeteries in Ohio and Tennessee; I flew half way around the world to feel comforted by the dead. I wasn’t dead, I knew it.
I had my morning coffee by myself, I ate my lunch in small parks all over the city and every afternoon I would buy the last tarte l’citron from the bakery, travel by metro to the Eiffel Tower and drink a bottle of wine while I waited for the lights to come on. I photographed 22 rolls of film, I had an affair with the concierge in my hotel and I got on with my life. I went home and placed the diamond pendant in a box next to the other from a previous lover; there they remain. I can never thank my best friend Ms. T. enough for having the foresight to throw up on him in Ireland but at least one of us had the opportunity. I’m not so innocent anymore.
So here is where you find me today. I haven’t dated much in over three years yet, I find myself hesitant but hopeful, no longer innocent but the anger has faded. I’m happy and grateful because I know for certain the world is my very own oyster as long as I have some Xanax.
Drink count
1 bottle of French White wine
A girl reinvents herself and, How to play baseball
Suddenly my children are older and getting a life. They’re off to their fathers house most weekends and I realize I have to quit sitting by the window waiting for them to pull up on Sunday night. They’re always sweet and inquire about my boring weekends. My answer was always the same, “not much but, I missed you a lot!”
I met a group of girls who eventually become my best friends. The first time in my life I can say I have a group of girlfriends and probably the first time in my life I’ve ever felt like I had real friends. Our get togethers went like this; 5:00 happy hour, dinner at a new restaurant which ended at 3:00 am in a club downtown and then asleep on a couch in one of the four corners of our city. Needless to say I suddenly let loose and quickly got a life.
After a month or two I kept finding phone numbers with boys names scribbled on napkins, matchbooks, the inside of my arm, on the back of a cab receipt and various other places. I would often meet with the girls at happy hour or over email during work hours the next day to re-construct my evening with questions like; “do you remember him?” “what did he look like?” Answered with; “yeah he was cute but short or, he wasn’t disgusting.”
I knew I wasn’t ready for a relationship; I was having way too much fun to settle down. I started dating casually but not necessarily in the hopes of meeting Mr. Right, basically Mr. GoodEnoughForNow would have been just fine.
How a serial monogamist turns into the owner of a baseball team
I never saw anything wrong with dating multiple people as long as everyone knew the score. The score was this; I was the coach and we played by my rules the instant you break the rules you’re off the team. Rules subject to change whenever I felt like it.
Boys came in these categories;
The rules:
I didn’t use these guys just in case you were wondering. I paid my own way and took them out to dinner, bought my own drinks and paid my own cover charge. In that case I knew I could eat where I wanted to eat and no one could ever say I owed them anything at the end of the night. This was my game and I was making the rules. This is how I got the nick-name, “juggles wigglesworth”. I had the time of my life for about a year or so. I dated, I played and I lost a lot of weight dancing. Next to that time when I had the flu and my mother died it was the best diet I ever had.
It wasn’t long before my girls were finding love and making plans for the future. I was there when two of my friends met their future husbands. For one I was dancing in a cage suspended over the dance floor when she brought him over to introduce him and, for the other being accused of participating in scandalous behavior; three words away from a bar fight. During this time I started making stuff up stories to tell my children about what I did while they were away. The details of my life wasn’t fit for young virgin ears. I adopted a standard answer accompanied by a long pause, “I was knitting.”
As in most lives and friendships, change and evolution are required to sustain the relationship. The four of us found our lives evolving; over time we were shooting pool until 1 am, making sure none of us were driving too drunk, which eventually turned into barbeques in our backyards and good-byes beginning around 10 pm. We’ve grown, we’ve changed and we’ve done it together. I don’t regret or apologize for anything I’ve done; it’s the feminist in me waving my middle finger behind me as I ride off into the sunset on my own horse. I don’t play baseball anymore.
Drink Count:
½ bottle Robert Mondovi, I’M a Rose
© 2012 Chantel Williams. All Rights Reserved.
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