I rarely wish to delve into my romantic adventures, largely because I think of myself more as a Don Want than a Don Juan. I’m a bit awkward in the art of amore… more like a bull in a china shop.
But, there are certain adventures, or should I say misadventures, that stand out in my mind. And even though the years have passed, their memories live on.
Such was the case of Faith. I had met Faith in Grand Cayman. I was 24 and she was 22. She was from Louisiana, from a small hamlet just outside of New Orleans. And it was an ill-advised love affair from the start, as you shall soon see.
I won’t delve into the intimate details of the relationship… a few of them are touched on in my coming memoirs as they related to my pirating days with Faith, not my personal relationship. I still find it funny that the two sides of my life can be so different in nature, one characterized as a lark, the other, hell. You decide which is which.
In retrospect, I can only say that I was young. I had never traveled on a plane before, been out of the country, or met a girl with a Southern accent in a tropical place. It was like something right out of a movie, only it wasn’t because we weren’t running in slow motion.
I didn’t know she was married at the time. I didn’t know that until almost a year later as we continued our long distance relationship. I guess it’s easy to hide the little details like a husband when you only talk on the phone. She never invited me to see her in Louisiana. She always flew up to Seattle. I guess I just never connected the dots.
Suffice it to say, it was a whirlwind romance. I was still working in the mailroom at the time. About a week before her visits to Seattle, I would start to get daily Fed Ex packages. Each contained lingerie. Of course, my friends in the mailroom made me open the packages each day. I am sure Faith would be appalled to know that her intimates were being held up for all to see in the Associated Grocers mailroom.
Faith and I were like oil and vinegar. We made great dressing at times, but in others we didn’t mix well at all.
She met my daughter just once. It wasn’t really planned. It was simply my weekend to take my darling daughter and Faith happened to have booked a trip during that time. We went to great pains to hide the fact that she was staying there. But my daughter, even at a very young age, was much smarter than the both of us put together. She kept finding reasons to go into daddy’s bedroom. When she finally did, she came right out, looked Faith right in the eye and said, “Are you going to marry my daddy?”
I burst out in laughter. Faith didn’t like children, not one little bit. I think she liked them even less at that moment. I just thought it was hilarious.
The next day, Faith began to show her true side. She was a very spoiled little girl who just didn’t want to grow up. Now, I am never one to point fingers at someone who doesn’t want to grow up. But she was getting on my nerves. She just kept bitching and wouldn’t stop.
Finally, I had had it. I stormed into the bedroom, gathered all her things, stuffed them in her suitcase and marched back out, heading for the front door. “Where you going with my suitcase?” she asked. “I’m taking it to the airport, and you along with it.”
She wasn’t scheduled to leave for two more days. I could have cared less. Off we went to Sea Tac, about 30 minutes from my apartment. I pull up to the curb, unloaded her suitcase and wished her well. I then got back into the Green Monster and sped off.
No, I didn’t leave her there. I drove around the access road about three times. I then stopped in front of the terminal, went in and asked her if she had come to her senses yet. She had.
The final straw in this rocky romance came a couple months later. She wanted to take me to Disneyland. I had always wanted to go there. I was probably the only guy on the entire west coast that hadn’t been there by the time he turned 25. She handled all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up at the airport.
She flew in from New Orleans, I from Seattle. We met at LAX, which was a nightmare in itself. We went to the hotel and made up… briefly. I noticed she had a beautiful new ring on her hand. I asked where it came from. “Remember that guy I told you about who wanted to sleep with me at the conference I was at?”
“Yeah, so?”
“He gave it to me.”
Oh my god, I had been out-slutted. She had slept with a guy for a ring and then came here to sleep with me. I went ape-shit right then and there. As I write this I am laughing hysterically, largely because of my sliding scale of morality – somehow she was in the wrong and I was in the right at this moment in time.
Suffice it so say my first trip to Disneyland was not a joyous one. After the big blowout I had hidden my airline ticket between the mattresses on my side of the bed in case she wanted to leave in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be stranded in Anaheim. She had paid for the ticket. I would have no way home.
Thankfully, the trip ended without further incident. We broke up as soon as I got back to Seattle. I had no more Faith.
Well, I did, but that’s another story, one that involves an anchor, a bottle of Asti Spumante and a bloody nose. I have to leave that to my memoirs,
Out on the Treasure Coast, wondering whatever became of Faith, the unfaithful,
– Robb