I left the room and proceeded up the stairs. He kept calling me to come down and work the problem out. I stepped halfway down the stairs, and told him that shouting at me in public or private was unacceptable.
I retreated to my room, climbed into bed and left him sitting downstairs. The hell with going to a movie. I never wanted to go anywhere with him, ever again.
Eventually, he lumbered up the stairs and stood at the side of my bed, gazing at me with puppy dog eyes.
“I’m sorry” he said in a small voice. “Can’t we talk out these problems?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I responded. “I find your behaviour intolerable. How dare you say those things to me. I have treated you with kindness, consideration and generosity, and all you have done is criticize me. I'm not going to put up with it any more.”
He continued to entreat me to forgive him and promised to control his shouting in the future. I decided not to break up with him at that moment, because I didn’t want to go through a night and morning of silence and anger. So I pretended that all was well, fearful of how he might react should I tell him our relationship was over.
I lay on my side of the bed all night, pleading a headache, hoping he would not want to touch me. Thankfully, he fell asleep in no time, while I lay wide-eyed, wondering what kind of fool I had been to allow this man into my life.
The next morning he was to leave for home, so I prepared him another splendid breakfast. I knew this would be the last meal I would ever make for him, and my heart sang at the thought of him leaving.
As he ate his oatmeal, telling me that this was a wonderful healthy meal, promising that he would lose 20 lbs by January, he poured on brown sugar and honey. After polishing off his “healthy” muffins, smothered with my English marmalade, he reached out for the muffin I had not eaten. He followed those with bacon and sausage and looked around for more.
It was finally time for him to leave. He gladly accepted the packed lunch I made him for the long two hour plane ride home. God forbid that he should go hungry on the flight! As I dropped him off at the airport, he lamented that he had forgotten to take a couple of sodas from my fridge. When I told him that the airline gives out free drinks he said “Yes, but they won’t give you the whole can.”
I gave him a perfunctory kiss goodbye and drove away with relief, and a little sadness that it had not worked out as I had hoped. What a waste of time, energy and emotion.
Several hours later he called, letting me know he had arrived safely, behaving as if nothing untoward had occurred. He apparently had no clue that it was over, even though I was cool and somewhat distant. I knew then that I would never see him again and sank down on my sofa with a sigh of thankfulness and relief, releasing all the stress of the past week.
It was only moments later that my phone rang again. Thinking it was Jerry, I hesitantly whispered “hello?” To my surprise, it was an old beau, wanting to come over that evening to take me to a movie. My spirits rose and thoughts of Jerry began to dissipate fast.
Rory, an English friend, arrived several hours later and as we were about to leave the house, the phone rang again. This time it was Steve, whom I had gone out with a few months previously, asking to see me later in the week. Life was starting to look up again, and I realised that I had made the correct decision in saying goodbye to Jerry. When I came home from the movie that evening, I emailed him, ending the relationship for good. There were bitter recriminations on his part, more pleading phone calls and emails, but eventually they petered out, and he finally left me alone.
CHAPTER SIX
After the debacle with Jerry, I decided to give on-line dating a rest for a while, and limited my “dates” to local men I had met through friends. None of them appealed to me, and I was starting to wonder if it was worth the effort. After all, I was now 66 years old, probably too old to be dating and sleeping with men. Perhaps a life alone would be easier. I had done it before and I could do it again.
In December 2008 I went on-line and received an unexpected IM from John. We had been corresponding on and off for a year now and I felt as if he were an old friend. I was happy and surprised to hear from him, and we wrote back and forth on the computer for hours. Our conversation was witty, sexy and outrageous. As before, I thought “Why not? I’ll never meet him. I can flirt all I like without doing any harm.”
However, that was not to be the case. “I’m driving to San Diego to see my mother for Christmas,” he said. “I’d like to stop by and see you on my way back home.”
My heart stopped. I had not expected this. What would he want from me? He wasn’t even my type physically, and of course he was so young.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I responded. “I have a bad cold, and don’t feel too well.”
“I’d really like to see you. Just as a friend. Please.”
Dammit, I thought. Well, maybe? It couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Okay, but call me and let me know exactly when you will be here. My husband and children will here for Christmas. Perhaps the next day would work out better.”
Christmas Eve came and went, and John telephoned that evening.
“I’m at my mother’s and I’d like to come see you tomorrow.”
“No, not tomorrow. It’s Christmas tomorrow. Why don’t you come the next day?”
“All right. The next day.”
I panicked. “What am I doing,” I asked myself. “I don’t feel well. I have bronchitis. He sounds weird on the phone. Maybe he has a cleft palate; maybe that is why his voice sounds so odd. Perhaps he will want to have sex with me. What shall I do?”
Conflicting thoughts raced through my mind and I finally sat down at the computer and sent him an email.
“Please don’t come. I’ve changed my mind. I have bronchitis and don’t feel well. I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to meet. I am so sorry.”
The day after Christmas, the telephone rang about 7 pm.
“I am on my way. I’ll be there around 10 pm,” he said.
“Oh my God. He didn’t get my email,” I thought. Now what am I going to do.
“Okay,” I responded, resignedly. Call me when you get close to the house, and I’ll help you find it.”
At 11 pm, the phone rang, making my heart jump. I picked it up.
“I’m getting close,” he said. “I’m almost on your street.”
“Okay, I’ll come outside and stand in the road so you can see me,” I replied.
A quick glance in the mirror, and I left the house, blind with panic. “Please God, don’t make him have a defect,” I begged. “Let him be normal.”
I walked outside, stepping through the patio and down the narrow stone-paved walkway to the street. Coming towards me was the strangest looking man. He was wearing a fishing hat with a battery and light contraption attached to the top of it so he could see. This couldn’t be John, could it? It was. Oh God!!
I walked up to the strange young man, and gave him a quick hug. I couldn’t see him in the dark, so took his arm, and led him into my house. I closed the French doors, turned on the lights and took a good look at my friend, this stranger standing before me.
I smiled. In fact, I grinned. He was tall but well built. Yes, his blond hair was thinning, but he had beautiful blue eyes, a nice nose, and the most perfect white teeth. He was absolutely gorgeous and I felt relief pulsating through my entire body.
“Thank you, God,” I whispered, leading him into the living room.
John, my knight in shining armour
He sank down on the green leather sofa and we looked at each other for what seemed hours. There was an instantaneous connection, as though I had come home. He talked, but I didn’t hear a word he said. I just listened to the cadence of his soft German accent. It was almost midnight, when the back door opened and Vanessa, Nick and Lee appeared unexpectedly. They had left earlier to go to the airport, but had missed the plane. They took one look at John, sitting on the sofa, smirked knowingly,
and made themselves scarce, racing upstairs into the spare bedroom.
I felt embarrassment flooding through me. What should I do now? It was late. Where did he think he would be sleeping? I took a sideways look at him again and made a quick decision. Damn, he was cute. I took his hand and said “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”
I came out of my bathroom, face washed, teeth brushed, wearing a sexy new nightgown. He was sitting up in bed, looking somewhat overwhelmed. But he also looked familiar to me, as though I had known him forever.
Yes – John was that Knight in Shining Armour who was riding his rocking horse when I had married Bill back in 1969!
I climbed into bed with him and he took my hand. I could feel him trembling beside me, so I placed his hand on my breast. He leaned over and tenderly kissed me.
“I only came here because I wanted to meet you,” he assured me. “I didn’t come to have sex with you.”
“Hush,” I whispered, afraid that my kids in the next room would hear us. I placed my hand on his chest, and felt his heart pounding. He rolled over and kissed me again.
I let my hands roam over his body. God, he felt so warm and smooth – and firm. My hands wandered down to his strong, hard thighs, so different from Bill’s scrawny shanks. Amazing what a difference thirty years could make!
John gathered me in his arms and kissed my entire body as I trembled with desire. The need for him felt like shock waves and I urged him over me, undulating beneath him with a passion I had long forgotten. This lovemaking was entirely different from any other I had experienced. He was not rough and acrobatic like Brett. He was not passive and disinterested, like Bill. He was totally into me and what I needed and wanted, taking his time and enjoying every second of it.
The night seemed never to end. We made love for hours and hours. I worried that Nick and Lee, sleeping in the next room, could hear the headboard banging against the wall. Embarrassed, I cautioned John to be quiet. “Please try to make less noise,” I pleaded. “They’ll hear us next door.”
“Come here, baby,” he whispered, pulling me off the bed, and onto the floor. “This will work just fine.”
Here was a man who enjoyed a woman's body and was not afraid of showing it. How different from all the other men in my life who would be finished in minutes. This was the most fulfilling and satisfying lovemaking I had ever experienced.
We spent the weekend together, biking at the beach, eating at local restaurants, playing tennis and talking non-stop. But most of all, making the most passionate, exciting love that I had ever known. It was as if we were meant to be together. I felt a completion I had never known before with this young man. There were moments when we walked along the beach, hand-in-hand, when I wondered if we looked an odd pair. But no-one gave us a second glance, except for the occasional quizzical smile or envious gaze.
Two days later he left, and as he was about to get into his car, he stopped. He took me in his arms, held me close and whispered “I don’t hit and run.”
I wondered if I would ever see him again. But he telephoned that same night and before I knew it, he had returned ten days later.
“I just couldn’t stay away,” he laughed.
Our relationship became something out of a story book. I was not certain what he did for a living that enabled him to return every month for the next year, but I didn’t care. He seemed to be self-employed and had the means to do as he pleased. He later told me that he cared nothing for money, and because of several auto accidents, was able to live off a small pension. His needs were few and he had the time to spend working on his many automobiles and devising ways to create bio-diesel fuel from plants, which he planned to use in his cars and later sell. He also earned money repairing computers, building bicycles and fixing cars. He lived four hours away in the mountains in a simple home away from the city, and had plans to buy land in the desert to grow fuel and waterless plants. His ideas and plans for the future were quite alien to me, but I didn’t care. He asked nothing of me but to visit every few months and make my life happier.
It was inconceivable to me that such a young man could have the maturity and capacity for love as he did. But as each day passed, I fell more and more in love with him. This was a man in a million. A man who knew what real love was. Not just physical passion, but someone who understood that a woman needs more than that.
John was there for me in every way possible. He listened to what I had to say, and remembered every detail. He cared about my health, racing to get ice when I fell off my bike, offering me water when I was thirsty, and making sure I took my vitamins. We would fall about laughing like children when something struck us as funny. He would telephone me every day when we were not together and generally forced me to believe that I was the most desirable woman in the world, who deserved real love.
“I wouldn’t care if you were ninety,” he declared. I love who you are. “If you were using a walker, I'd make love to you. I have never met a woman as beautiful, caring and giving as you are. I have done without love for so many years, and I am not going to let you go.”
And so the months went by, and our understanding of each other grew. “How amazing” I reflected “to find someone I am compatible with. We rarely disagree, and all I do is smile when I look at him. This can’t be real.”
But it was real and I finally realised that my search for love was finally over. For the first time in my life, I had found a man who truly cared for me. His tenderness showed in every gesture. He would caress my face while we lay together, holding hands. He would smile at me with love and adoration. I knew now that love was not just physical – it came from the heart.
We spent our first anniversary in Maui, walking hand in hand along the beach, wrapped up in each other. No-one seemed to realise or even care that this was a forty-two year old man with a sixty-seven year old woman. We glowed. We were in love. We were meant to be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When you are in love, you think your lover is handsomer, smarter and kinder than anyone else’s. Despite being passionate about someone, it is difficult to break old habits, which I had to learn to do.
I was a total neat freak, but all that had to end when I decided to be with John. What is more important – a tidy garage or a passionate, industrious man?
A little eccentric, he has a different and unique way of looking at things. When away from me, he is redesigning a thirty-year-old car in his backyard. Once completed it will be capable of travelling 100 kilometres with only 3 litres of petrol – 82 miles per gallon! Can you believe that? Currently there is no manufacturer offering a modern counterpart here in the United States.
When he is here – and I can attest to this – the floor of my garage is covered with seeds that have popped out of their shells, but John is nice enough to leave spots where I can still walk. At first I was doubtful about his project, and my family all raised their eyebrows, but he convinced me that fuel could be grown from common wild seeds in three months.
We have all seen the news about people growing fuel for automobiles instead of drilling for it. Although this is a wonderful concept, unfortunately the conventional way of growing fuel is every bit and sometimes more resource-intensive as drilling for crude oil, with ecosystems being destroyed in the process. However the biggest downside comes from the enormous amounts of irrigation water that are required to grow the fuel. Those, and other inefficiencies, and a difficulty of growing fuel, have given the “green movement” a sour taste.
Through lots of experimentation, plus over a decade of research, John has discovered a refreshing twist. To grow fuel with little or no water at all, and to make it even more appealing, he does it on wasteland in the hot, dry California desert! To round it all off, the fuel-bearing seeds are planted, transported and processed on location, thereby minimising transportation costs but using inexpensive and undesirable desert land for production facilities. The energy to accomplish all this comes from a tiny portion of the very fuel the plants supply and the differen
t types of energy that the abundant desert sun provides!
As our fourth year together approaches, I see that my life has become so much fuller and richer. Because of John, I started writing short stories and poetry and have finally completed my life story. No-one has ever believed in me quite like him, and I find it thrilling to expand my horizons as an author. I am determined to stay healthy and fit, and to enjoy whatever life offers, with the man I love supporting me now and for always. He’s a busy guy, but still finds the time to visit me for weeks at a time. I know we will be together for as long as I want him – for as long as I need him – and that is the happiest ending I could ever have asked for.
Epilogue
How does one neatly tie up the end of one’s life story? It’s not possible and I hope there is much more ahead. Looking back on my life, many might remark it is not one of great accomplishment. I have not helped humanity, invented something fantastic, or become famous. But I have learned something along the way and that is to be as truthful and as loving as I possibly can. Like many of us, I have lived a quite ordinary life, punctuated with some extraordinary events. I have attempted to grow as a person, giving generously to those who need it, and learning to accept love, rather than demand it.
After almost five years, Vanessa has moved on with her life, climbing the ladder of success at work and working to fulfil her personal dreams.
Nicholas and Lee are still together, now living in Redondo Beach, California in their dream condo overlooking the ocean, with their three cats and three dogs. They travel a great deal and are enjoying life to the fullest after seven years together.
Vanessa and Nicholas 2009
Bill has remained a dear friend all these years. We are still married and will celebrate our forty-second wedding anniversary in December 2011. He and Caroline are into their eleventh year together.
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