Look up whhhhhite in the dictionary and you'll see a picture of Karen Carpenter and Richard, her spit curled brother. And this was part of the sound track to my formative years. The 1970s really embraced the back up singers and the over production values newly available to recording studios. Who hasn't been to a wedding and been forced to listen some best friend's version of "We've Only Just Begun"? You could take all the lyrics of the Carpenter's songs and write yourself one tragically sappy Harlequin Romance. Speaking of lyrics, I used to think it would be such a good idea to take the lyrics of REM and write a book or story based around them. I could never figure out the copyright laws on that one. Anywho...
Easy listening music filled the airwaves of my AM radio back then, is it any wonder depression filled my soul? But isn't it something the way a song can immediately transport you back in time to a moment in time so quickly? After breaking up with Joe, the first guy I lived with, I couldn't listen to Elton John for years. The tie to him was way too strong. And I thought I wanted to write about music, I think I'll change the topic to this Joe fellow.
I met Joe through a roommate in college. My roommate was in the University's marching band and she was in band with the roommate of Joe, see how that works? I had been sick, laying on the couch watching Geraldo, let's say, and Joe showed up at my door step, literally. He was bringing by a tape he wanted to share with my roommate. I can see it in my head, him standing in the doorway: brown, almost black hair, parted on the side, pale complexion, dark lashes, runners build, preppy clothes, maybe even topsiders on his feet and that was it. Who was this guy? How does my roomy know him and where had she'd been hiding him from me? Of course, she had a crush on him too but that didn't stop me from a full on attack and conquer mentality, friendship be damned! And I got him. Soon we were inseparable. I was under his thumb and under him and happy to be so. But where hormones tread, drama soon follows and was there ever!
Joe had grown up in a very dysfunctional or as I like to say "fucked up" family. Apparently, his mother was little more than a white trash whore. She had been married no less than 4 times, maybe 5 depending on who you talked to. Joe had not had any contact with this testament to motherhood in 5 years and had no intention of breaking the streak. And though I don't remember him sharing many direct details about his mother to me, he did say she kept her reusable douche on the side of the tub, gross on anybodys scale.
Having grown up his many sisters and his charming mother, Joe had many ideas of what he viewed as being a "proper" woman and was more than willing to share these thoughts and opinions with me. I will give you a few examples. Your jeans are too tight, it they fit right, you would have those lines in the front and they're too faded. (Please keep in mind I'd been waiting since my teen years to have these perfectly faded jeans, maybe with a perfectly placed hole in the knee, it was cool, OK, don't judge.) You can't study longer than an hour at a time, what are you a kid? I've forgotten most of the specifics but sentences began with a lot of YOU SHOULD... There are two things he said to me that I will never forget.
The following may be classified as TMI in some people's book, so skip it if you wish.
When I used to date people, as I'm sure you've done, you go through that "This is my life up to this point story and how many people I've had sex with." Foolish, yes, mandatory, of course. As is for many girls, college was a time of experimentation and by that I mean, indiscriminate sex with strangers. And don't lose your mind, it wasn't that many but it did happen. And it was only with guys and only one guy at a time. Very vanilla, very boring stuff. I tell you all this because you need to know that to understand why Joe said this. "Sometimes when I think about all the guys you've been with, it makes me sick". Charming huh? In the same breath, Joe decided we needed to watch pornography too. This was no easy task as nobody owned a VCR on in the early 80's. So you had to rent the VCR and the movies too. The very first of less than 3 pornos I've ever seen was "Behind the Green Door". Google it. What a fucked up movie that was. And news flash, most girls don't want to genitals that close up, okay!!!! God, it's fucking burned in my brain. So he wanted to treat me like a whore but didn't want be to be whore. The oldest story in the book. I need to insert the information here that I thought all the sex we were having and it was plenty, was because of me. In my mind, he loved me and if I just figured out how to do everything right, he would be mind forever. And when the side effects of all this fornication reared it's ugly head one day and he told me he was no longer in the mood because of it, I just wanted to die. That scene in bed is also burned in my memory. Why do people humiliate each other when they are at their most vulnerable? Anyway.....
So I was his stray following him around for one year and three months. During this time he would go to parties with nobody but his other female coworkers would be there. One night he took my fucking car to the store supposedly and ended up at one of these parties and didn't bother to tell me. And he got mad at me because I should have somehow magically known he decided to go to this party because he had mentioned it existed earlier in the evening. This is how desperate I was. I called the store multiple times and had him paged and then got on my bike, in the middle of the night and rode to this girl's house and found my car and my boyfriend. Then after practically begging him to come home he told me to go home, in front of everyone and I drove my bike home. I left him my car. Just typing this makes my want to vomit. One night he went over to another female coworkers place to talk with her boyfriend problems and didn't come home until very late because she had hidden his car keys from him. Somehow me getting mad about that was my fault as well. But I really knew when things were coming to an end when he got his own car. He had never had a car while we were together and I was his personal chauffeur. I would pick him at 2 in the morning all the time. He would call and say he was ready to come home and then keep me waiting in the parking lot for 30 minutes while he bullshit inside. Again, I had no right to be pissed off about this either. So when he got his "vintage" tacky orange VW bug, I knew the clock was ticking. Anybody with a brain knows you don't buy VW bug in a state that has winters, there is no fucking heating system in these things. We once drove 250 miles in the winter, in Iowa, in this fucking abomination. I have never shivered so much in my life. Sorry, tangent. So he got his own car and it wasn't too much later we broke up. And big surprise, he ended up dating one of his many coworkers from the restaurant he worked. Who saw that coming?
So the last time I saw this douche bag was in the mall. We may have said "Hi" in passing, I don't remember but that apparently wasn't enough for him. Joe called my sister, whose house I just happened to be at. He wanted to get a hold of me. So I took the phone and he said "Do you want to get together and talk? I thought you might have some things you wanted to get off your chest." Well, we never got together because I couldn't stand the idea of being in the same room with him and dredging up all this stuff I was so desperately trying to forget but we did talk a minute on the phone. He said one thing that made that was a back handed apology. He said it was easier for him to concentrate on my "problems" than his. Wow, what a generous soul to admit that.
So you see, music can really take you back in time and remember stuff that makes your skin crawl and stomach ache. Thank God for time and all the space the world can offer.
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