A Match Made in Pretend Heaven

Your first love is one that you never forget. You feel this connection to one another that cannot be described and you long to spend as much time together as possible.  In the beginning the newness of this person is similar to reading a good novel.  You can’t wait to turn the page to learn more and every morsel of information has you spellbound.  How did you breathe before this person opened the door to your life?

You either click or you don’t.  There has to be some chemistry there to turn the page. Whether you start as friends or you fall flat on your heart in love, there is no faking it. In middle school I had a few boys that showed an interest in me and as all girls, I was envious of those that had boyfriends, but I could not pretend to like someone just so I could be one of them.  I tried, but within a day or two, I had to come clean, sorry, I’m not a stellar student in science but I am pretty sure there is no chemistry between us and I need to set you free.  I felt it was unfair to “use” someone who had feelings for you and you did not feel the same way.

But that changed when I met Scott.  As I have shared, I didn’t like him at first.  It wasn’t because he was odd or not attractive, I thought boys were cruel and I was not putting myself in a situation where my feelings could be any more shattered than they already were.  Scott was funny.  He was charming and he worked at getting my attention. 

My “Partner in Crime,” as we were known in high school would go with me sometimes skating. I think she convinced me to give this kid a chance and so I did.  He was a senior at East Lansing High School and would be graduating in 1977. Our first official date was at the M-78 drive in theatre.  He drove a 1968 Red Oldsmobile Cutlass Convertible that was in dire need of shock absorbers. I drove into East Lansing and met him at his home.  His parents were moving to Downers Grove, Illinois about the time he graduated from high school and soon it would be just him and his sister.  I parked the primer spotted bug at this house and we took off for the skating rink.  We weren’t there long when we decided to go to the drive in movie.  It was a double feature and both were horror films which I am not a fan of now. I remember one of the movies was Carrie. By the time the first movie was over, my curfew was violated.

Mother always told me to call if I was going to be late, but I knew better.  If I called to inform her I’d be late, she’d insist I leave immediately and come home.  No need to live with that guilt, so I chose to inform her of my tardiness as I was walking in the door.  I was saving a dime by not calling and my pink piggy bank was not always full of these little silver tokens.

This was one of those nights that I crept into the house well after one.  She was sitting in the dark and as I rounded the entryway into the hallway, she hit the flood lights and I swear her head spun and sparks came out of her mouth! “WHERE have you been?” 

I had nothing to hide.  I told her that Scott and I had gone skating and then went to the drive in theatre. My Mother, who apparently thought she knew me better than I knew my self, informed me that I did not like movies and she did not believe I sat through a double feature. She quizzed me as though I was being interrogated for a federal crime! What was the name of the movie?  Who starred in it?  What was the movie about? Apparently she had me mistaken for herself.  I watched the movies from the front bench seat, both movies, all the way through.

I could not believe that this woman who gave birth to me and was a part of my everyday life for seventeen years thought I hated movies!  From the early ages of single digits, my family would walk to the movie theatres in downtown Lansing, stop at Kewpie’s for a burger and malt and continue down to the Michigan Theatre or the Gladmour to see the latest flick showing.  It was usually a James Bond movie, but we also hunkered down in the car with our pillows and blankets, homemade popcorn and Kool-Aid chilling in the thermos and drove to the Northside drive in to watch a double feature.  I loved going to the drive in and being able to play on the swings and slides before the cartoons started.  But I was a small child who could barely stay up much past dark, I fell asleep often.  She contributed this to a dislike for films!

At seventeen it was hard to ground me.  I held two part time jobs and went to school part time.  But on that particular night, I received my last spanking and my Mother informed me that from that moment on she didn’t care what happened to me and that I was NEVER to call her if I got into trouble,  I was on my own.  I believe she spouted this off in anger, but those words burned and I never forgot them. Apparently, Mother wasn't aware that I had always taken care of my "trouble" without her as I feared her more than facing the devil.  Thirty-six years have come and gone and I have never called my Mother for anything except to exchange the news of the moment.

Scott and I continued to date.  Scott smoked marijuana, I never tried it.  He often asked me to get high with him, but I had no desire to and again, if I came home with the faintest smell of anything from beer to cigarettes to God forbid, pot, I might as well dig my grave before I came into the house as that is where I would have ended up. Regardless that my Mother smoked from the age of fourteen until well after I was born, no child of hers was going to experiment with anything unless it was stamped with the approval of one Mother Beadle!

Scott turned eighteen and graduated from high school.  He and his sister moved from the family home to an apartment in Haslett when his parents moved.  He quit working at the roller skating rink and started working at Jacobson’s Home Store in downtown East Lansing. He became more dependent upon his little smoking habit and it got to the point that he was no longer fun to be with unless he was high.

We attended my Junior/Senior prom.  I guess this is a big milestone for most teenagers but it was just a dance.  I saved my money from working to buy a dress to wear. Scott drove out to DeWitt to pick me up.  The Prom was being held on the south side of Lansing.  I witnessed how other mothers prepared their daughters for this special day.   Shopping for the perfect gown took weeks. Hair appointments were made and lots of pampering took place but not at the Beadle Bungalow. My Mother didn’t even snap a photo of this moment in time when her daughter attended her first prom. We were going with another couple, a friend who lived in the neighborhood.  Her mother without even being asked snapped photos of us as we prepared to head out for the “night of our life.”

Scott and I were both sick with head colds that night, so we drove out to Long’s Banquet and we danced a little bit, had our pictures taken by a professional photographer hired for the occasion and then we headed out.  It really wasn’t all that I had dreamed it would be, but then again, it was the Prom from my life in Hell. I was not a part of this class.  I went to school with these people, but my friends were in East Lansing.

Scott and I dated for well over a year.  We never spoke of marriage or a future.  Perhaps we knew this was just for now.  I never dreamt of marriage so I had no desires for the white picket fence and rose bushes. Within weeks after I turned eighteen, Scott made a decision without discussing it with me until it was too late.  His decision changed our relationship and assured me that boys were not to be trusted once again.  Shortly after this, I was once again faced with a decision that had to be made. I had no one to lean on and no one to talk to.  I had graduated from high school and took a job as a dental assistant with a dentist in East Lansing.  I was not trained to be a dental technician, but I had spent five years in and out of dental offices while my mouth was under major construction and in that time I became very familiar with the logistics of the anatomy of one’s mouth.

As my adult life was being introduced to me with the stress of some heavy weighted decisions and a real adult type of job, I took my first blow and got a taste of the real world.  I was fired from my job as a dental technician after three weeks on the job.  The dentist thought he had time to train me, but in retrospect he needed someone who was trained.  I had spent money for uniforms that I would not wear outside of his office and I was without employment for the first time. I negotiated a "severance package" and he paid for the uniforms that I had spent money on and would never use again.  In hindsight, my skills for negotiation started very young and were finely honed by the late teens.

My partner in crime and I headed to the cottage during the Fourth of July weekend. In the month since I had officially graduated from high school, I had faced some major changes and decisions in my life and I needed to get away, clear my mind and heal my soul.

We drove back from the cottage and straight to Scott’s apartment.  My partner in crime and I had a great weekend and I was anxious to see Scott.  As we got out of the car, his sister was exiting the apartment building.  She seemed startled to see me and even more so when I asked if Scott was home. She told me he was out, although his car sat idle in the parking lot. His sister was aware of the situation that arose between Scott and I and she wondered how I was doing.

As I turned to go back to my car, Scott appeared in the doorway of the apartment building next to his sister.  My mind was racing, she had told me he wasn’t there, but there he stood on the inside of the door frame calling my name.

I returned to talk to him and his sister left.  I had been to his apartment a lot over the year we had dated; it was almost my home away from home.  I suggested we go up to the apartment to talk, but another blow was about to be delivered.  He had company, a female and he thought it was best that I not come up as they were “busy.” He had been listening to me through the intercom system talking to his sister and came down to deliver the news.

My partner in crime was there with me.  I walked back to my car and left.  There was no arguing.  Scott and I never fought.  I didn’t question this new hobby he had picked up in my absence of a weekend.  I just moved on.

I had a new job at Auto Owners in the Agency Department.  My goal was to get in the door and move to the claims department as that is where my passion in insurance seemed to blossom.  I licked my wounds and I noted the lessons that had been presented to me in this first love. Even those that claim they love you will kick you in the gut and not blink an eye. My skin toughened more and my back became a bit more rigid as I closed the book on that match made in a pretend heaven.