As far as women were concerned, I was always pretty lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. Since about age 17, I never lacked a girlfriend for long, even through to the current day. I don't know if this will ever change. Put me in any town in America, or even overseas for that matter, and I will acquire a not-bad looking girlfriend in under two weeks. It's not due to low standards either. I've tested this out, numerous times, because I've lived almost everywhere in my quest for constant employment. Sometimes there is just no work where you are, so you gotta' move. I'm sure if I had landed a decent career after college and stayed in one spot and built a business, I would have had 10 children, easily.
Some of my past girlfriends stuck around for so long,waiting for me to marry them, that unfortunately, we both ended up wasting huge chunks of time, waiting for the right time for me to make that magical marriage proposal, when we both could have been dating more successful people. Unfortunately, I was so ill-prepared to earn a living after college graduation, that I never could quite feel right about taking the plunge, as I was perennially poor as a church-mouse. Whenever I did happen upon a good business idea, my parents were sure to sabotage the whole thing, although I did not realize this was going on at the time. That's why it was so frustrating.
Whenever I would bring a decent girl home to meet the parents, my father would make it a point to somehow humiliate me in front of her eventually. The more gorgeous the girl, the worse it would be. I don't know if he was secretly gay, or what, the way he acted.
This went for my mother too, although she wasn't the control freak my dad was. She would just be rude and mean to the girl, not immediately, but would do it in a subtle way, especially if I made the mistake of leaving the poor girl alone with my mother.
I remember I brought this lovely blonde home that I had dated at college before I graduated and my Dad suddenly got the urge to assign me loads of yard work the entire weekend we were there. So, instead of a fun time hanging with the parents and watching football on a chilly Fall weekend, my girlfriend got to sit in a pickup truck and listen to the radio, while I spread mulch all weekend. I didn't bring her around much after that and we eventually broke up anyway, thanks to my crazy parents.
I think what made it worse was that by having such a wealthy father, most of these girls probably assumed he would help me along eventually, but that help never materialized. He usually gave me just enough rope to hang myself and he was usually the one that yanked away the stool, figuratively speaking. Then he would run and tell everyone what a loser I was. But let my adopted brother screw anything up and my "dad" would fall all over himself making one excuse after another for this little prick. Bro would always get a free pass.
My father was truly a step-dad, in that his stuff was his, and he wasn't about to hand anything over to some little bastard kid he happened to hijack to give the appearance of a normal family, just so he could build his insurance empire. This was untrue of course, for the newer adopted child.
Some of my past girlfriends stuck around for so long,waiting for me to marry them, that unfortunately, we both ended up wasting huge chunks of time, waiting for the right time for me to make that magical marriage proposal, when we both could have been dating more successful people. Unfortunately, I was so ill-prepared to earn a living after college graduation, that I never could quite feel right about taking the plunge, as I was perennially poor as a church-mouse. Whenever I did happen upon a good business idea, my parents were sure to sabotage the whole thing, although I did not realize this was going on at the time. That's why it was so frustrating.
Whenever I would bring a decent girl home to meet the parents, my father would make it a point to somehow humiliate me in front of her eventually. The more gorgeous the girl, the worse it would be. I don't know if he was secretly gay, or what, the way he acted.
This went for my mother too, although she wasn't the control freak my dad was. She would just be rude and mean to the girl, not immediately, but would do it in a subtle way, especially if I made the mistake of leaving the poor girl alone with my mother.
I remember I brought this lovely blonde home that I had dated at college before I graduated and my Dad suddenly got the urge to assign me loads of yard work the entire weekend we were there. So, instead of a fun time hanging with the parents and watching football on a chilly Fall weekend, my girlfriend got to sit in a pickup truck and listen to the radio, while I spread mulch all weekend. I didn't bring her around much after that and we eventually broke up anyway, thanks to my crazy parents.
I think what made it worse was that by having such a wealthy father, most of these girls probably assumed he would help me along eventually, but that help never materialized. He usually gave me just enough rope to hang myself and he was usually the one that yanked away the stool, figuratively speaking. Then he would run and tell everyone what a loser I was. But let my adopted brother screw anything up and my "dad" would fall all over himself making one excuse after another for this little prick. Bro would always get a free pass.
My father was truly a step-dad, in that his stuff was his, and he wasn't about to hand anything over to some little bastard kid he happened to hijack to give the appearance of a normal family, just so he could build his insurance empire. This was untrue of course, for the newer adopted child.
Best girlfriend: Las Vegas, 1998-the Older Woman
Worst Girlfriend: West Virginia University, Gorgeous and young but too career oriented, but this was college, so my fault. I made the mistake of assuming that the women were there to find a husband. Some were, but most were not, at least the ones I pursued. If you're looking for a wife, college is about the worst place to look, in my experience.
My advice now: Use college to work on your career. When you're ready to find a wife, the best prospects will be found in a third world country, or temporarily join a religious sect, such as the Mormons, or the Amish, and date as young as legally possible. You want to find the smartest, least-educated woman you can find, who has healthy parents, both physically and mentally. Take a good look at her mother. That's her in 20-30 years. Best strategy: Date and have fun 'till you're about 29 or 30, then go third world. Hopefully you have saved a little money by then, and can travel.
On the other hand, if you want a life of agony, marry a career woman, with lots of education. You will be so screwed! Trust me.
My advice now: Use college to work on your career. When you're ready to find a wife, the best prospects will be found in a third world country, or temporarily join a religious sect, such as the Mormons, or the Amish, and date as young as legally possible. You want to find the smartest, least-educated woman you can find, who has healthy parents, both physically and mentally. Take a good look at her mother. That's her in 20-30 years. Best strategy: Date and have fun 'till you're about 29 or 30, then go third world. Hopefully you have saved a little money by then, and can travel.
On the other hand, if you want a life of agony, marry a career woman, with lots of education. You will be so screwed! Trust me.
Surprisingly, it really seemed to piss-off my parents when I brought women home to meet them, back in my younger days, when all the women were of prime baby-making age. In fact, looking back on it, the unlucky women I managed to bring home to meet the parents, both in high school and later on through early adulthood in the eighties, were usually looked upon with resentment, but not in an obvious way. I remember getting a feeling about it at the time. The thing was, the better looking the girl was, it seemed the madder my parents got. I am still unsure as to why this was happening. It will always be a mystery to me. I guess it has something to do with the stepfather thing.......I don't know.
I remember, the last really great girl I brought home to meet the parents, it was 1999. By now, at age 39, I had finally figured this thing out-what they were doing. This girl was 30 with a kid- all the good ones are knocked up by then-at least once, right? I had a brief history with this girl, from years before, when we were kids. She was now a statuesque brunette, slightly taller than I, not a rare thing as I was a short man. She was just a real knockout, and personality plus, from Chicago. I was pretty thrilled.
She was very cool, so I asked her, as a favor, to do a test for me, because I suspected that my parents had been sabotaging me with all these girls through the years. She said "okay", so I introduced her to my mother, who was very cordial and polite, "pleased to see you again after so long", etc. So I left them together in the kitchen there, for an hour. I said I had to go to the store or something like that. Sure enough, when I checked back in later, my little girlfriend sat there in the kitchen with the strangest look on her face.
"Well, what happened?", I asked. "Your Mom, she really doesn't want you to have a girlfriend." "What do you mean?", I said. Turns out, Mom had told her all kinds of stories designed to basically get rid of her. This girl was like, "Let's get out of here, and don't ever leave me alone with your mother again, please!"
Years later, after Mom passed away unexpectedly in 2011, I was going through her old photo albums and I found this picture of my-then fiancee' and I from some time in the '80's, except that someone had scratched my face out of the picture, probably my Mother's doing, since she was in charge of the photo albums. So my gut feeling had been right all along. Mom had some deep-seated psychological problems.
So it was true, my mother had been sabotaging my relationships, probably for years. No wonder everything had gone great until they met my parents. If I had paid attention to my intuition on this, I probably would have done things differently. Most parents want their sons to have girlfriends, who eventually turn into wives, so it still took me by surprise. I guess the sons pay for the sins of the father, being that I was the product of a former marriage. That could be it. I really don't know. It could be any stupid reason. Unfortunately, the damage had been done, as I was near 40 years old by the time I figured this out, with really no time left to start again.
Part III
I remember, the last really great girl I brought home to meet the parents, it was 1999. By now, at age 39, I had finally figured this thing out-what they were doing. This girl was 30 with a kid- all the good ones are knocked up by then-at least once, right? I had a brief history with this girl, from years before, when we were kids. She was now a statuesque brunette, slightly taller than I, not a rare thing as I was a short man. She was just a real knockout, and personality plus, from Chicago. I was pretty thrilled.
She was very cool, so I asked her, as a favor, to do a test for me, because I suspected that my parents had been sabotaging me with all these girls through the years. She said "okay", so I introduced her to my mother, who was very cordial and polite, "pleased to see you again after so long", etc. So I left them together in the kitchen there, for an hour. I said I had to go to the store or something like that. Sure enough, when I checked back in later, my little girlfriend sat there in the kitchen with the strangest look on her face.
"Well, what happened?", I asked. "Your Mom, she really doesn't want you to have a girlfriend." "What do you mean?", I said. Turns out, Mom had told her all kinds of stories designed to basically get rid of her. This girl was like, "Let's get out of here, and don't ever leave me alone with your mother again, please!"
Years later, after Mom passed away unexpectedly in 2011, I was going through her old photo albums and I found this picture of my-then fiancee' and I from some time in the '80's, except that someone had scratched my face out of the picture, probably my Mother's doing, since she was in charge of the photo albums. So my gut feeling had been right all along. Mom had some deep-seated psychological problems.
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| Kurt and Y, 1985 |
Part III
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