Saved by the Belle

If there is one thing I wish I could impart upon young men who invariably find themselves in that less-than-enviable category as "easily overlooked", for whatever of a number of myriad reasons, it is this: Never allow yourself to feel so desperate that you marry the first woman that says "yes". You may be fat, you may be poor, you may look particularly appealing to warthogs, you may be rather short, you may find yourself suffering from severe ordinariness, it makes no difference. If you choose your mate based on the "she must be blind or stupid" criteria, then this will be your first, if not last, marriage. You betrayed yourself and settled for the first happy accident that occurred, but you did not find your soul-mate. I know, I was that person.
I have not ever considered myself to be a particularly bad looking guy, but between a five foot Mother and a not much taller sperm donor, I got dealt the short card. It was not until much later that the sociological science of the matter convinced me that it wasn't really personal, most women prefer to look UP at their mates and I really don't hold it against them. What continues to piss me off is that the REALLY short ones prefer their men even taller........go figure. Whatever, it's the cross one must bare, along with trying to find clothes and shoes that fit. I'm happy in T-shirts and jeans, and women's tennis shoes work just fine....nobody can really notice the difference. Anyway, that was the kink in MY self esteem that took years to overcome and convinced me that I had to settle, too.
I was a few years out of the Navy and trying to survive the disco scene, as it was hard to find any decent hard rock clubs in the area. I was working at the Shipyard as a machinist trainee and rooming with some really genetically impaired guy in a run down dive right outside the yard gates. He paid his share of the cheap rent, what more could I ask for. I worked hard all week helping to build new submarines, and partied harder on the weekends when I wasn't putting in overtime. So, my social life centered on this one club, close enough to get to, with a dance floor. God I loved to dance back then!
After awhile I became a regular, and though I acquired plenty enough dance partners, I remained the sweet, cute (God how I hated that word!) guy the girls could confide in, but never think of as a love interest. So I was stuck dancing and comforting them as the tall, dark, and maybe even handsome jerks had their way with them. I know, it's a shit job but somebody always ends up doing it. Somebody like me.
Then I meet Michele. What can I say about her? She was not ugly. She was not obese. She wasn't much taller than me. She was single. And although I knew she wasn't that swift as women go, it wasn't until much later that I snapped out of my trance and realized just how slow she really was. However, by that time, I had married her. She said yes. That was her one and only job requirement, and she passed it with flying colors.
OK, you can see where this is going. We had absolutely nothing in common. I had a thirsty intellect, she couldn't grasp any concept I tried to explain to her. She started gaining weight, lost it, gained it back. I loved her, I guess, though at that age you could define love in a number of different ways and I guess I was deluding myself. Whatever, I was married and discovered I had no one to talk to. Sex slowly lost it's all consuming power over me........I found one could actually not be horny 24 seven......what a shock!
Now, perhaps due to my exposure to Catholicism, I actually had taken my vows very seriously. So I endured. I worked at it.
I convinced myself I should be happy someone wanted to be my wife. Now add the in-laws from hell. To sit in a restaurant with these people was an exercise in humiliation, just being associated with them. Pigs at a trough! All rednecks, and proud of it. Being in this family was like being a black child adopted by Eskimos. OIl and vinegar, mixed only when forced. My vows started to lose their command over me. By year 10 I'd had enough. I'd failed. Even then I considered myself the bad guy, but I couldn't stomach it any more. It wasn't a nice parting, and thankfully her redneck brother didn't manage to get thru the locked door of my apartment, despite his efforts to kick it in. He would have been met with a clip full of 380's if he had. Not being big enough to think you MIGHT win a fight with a very hefty redneck is another aspect of my size I had to suffer with.......it can be humiliating. But the officer who finally responded and got them to leave informed me blithely to make sure to drag them back inside the door if they stagger out, and I'd be cool, self-defense wise.
So, I ventured back out into the dating scene once again, ten years older and totally out of touch with the new realities of women. I dated allot of 20 somethings and the generation gape was allot wider than I'd ever imagine it could be. These chicks were over the top, no concept of honesty, responsibility, nothing at all in common with the tenants I was raised under.
If a man can be driven Gay, I came damn near close to it. The sex was ok, but just like chinese food, I was left as empty as before I'd dove in. However, somehow I had developed this strange idea that I was basically an alright human being, deserving of the love of a GOOD woman, and that I didn't have to grovel at the feet of something female to support my self-esteem. So I endured. Then came Gail.
Buy this time I was stranded in Florida, having ended up here thru circumstances of my first marriage. I had just lost a primo job with Uncle Sam at the local Naval Depot, and was going to Nursing school thru the help of retraining programs.
On top of that I had been forced to retrieve my ill Mother from the bad care of her loser boyfriend, and was taking care of her, suffering as she was from emphysema. Yes, life was getting complicated, but I was used to it.....it always had been.
Gail lived in the same apartment complex, and I would glance up from reading a school textbook on my front patio to see her power-walking by, always with a wave and a smile. Every now and then I would see her at the local watering hole/karaoke bar that had become my second home, sometimes alone, sometimes with some guy. She struck me as my age or older, but nothing overtly sexual ever passed between us, and we never formally tried to connect. But one night, as I sat at my usual table, waiting for my next time up to sing, and suffering from another dating disaster, she came up to my table and asked if the empty chair was available. It was, and thank god, because connecting with her that night was so incredibly easy I knew it was fated. Turns out she was five years older than me, which after what I had been through with the young ones was no problem for me at all. We talked easily, enjoyed each others company, with no trace of urgency or desperation between us. It just felt RIGHT. We began to spend time together outside the bar, and I felt so naturally at ease with her walking hand in hand thru the mall, something began tell me this HAD to be the one. And I was NOT settling, I CHOSE to be with her, and she enjoyed me simply for what made me who I was. And yes, she was taller than me, not that either one of us really seemed to notice. Fate needed to teach me some harsh lessons, but I learned. She was my reward.
All I had to deal with this time was a crazy Puerto Rican ex-boyfriend turned stalker, and a Mother-in-law from hell, but other than that, I was in heaven. Eight months later we were married, at a cute little Episcopal church with lots of friends, family (mostly hers), and fellow karaoke addicts, two of whom contributed some very nice songs, and last but not least, the lead singer of our town's most famous local band (No, not lynard Skynard or the like). The kick ass thunder storm that accompanied the ceremony added a nice, natural touch, something we chose to consider a gift from the Grandfather rather than some bad omen. Thus began our life together of trials, tribulations, and a profound love for each other that has survived unemployment, bad jobs, illness and pain, as well as many wonderful things in between. Many times I have almost convinced myself that the worst thing I could have done to this woman was marry her, but she refuses to hear of it, and is the first and perhaps only person who has ever made me believe she needs me as much as I need her, and God do I need her.
If you have survived this long and drawn out account of my journey thru the tunnel of love, I commend you. Please remember this is a cautionary tale...........no matter what, know that if you are meant to be with someone at all in this lifetime, he or she will come to you. Not because you are desperate, not because you are lonely, not because you are trying so damn hard, not because you ordered her from a mail-order-bride catalogue from Moscow. They come to you when you are capable of appreciating them, and appreciating yourself as someone worthy of love. Even us munchkins.