A few weeks ago, I wrote My Life ~ Part 1. Here is the continuing story.
Three months into my first marriage, my husband asked me for a divorce. We began living separate lives while residing under one roof.
I consulted a temp. agency, and they lined me up with a new job. I became a secretary for Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream. Just prior to leaving my banking job, I accepted a date with a customer. He would become husband number 2.
My life was all fresh & new, no longer crumbling.
The job lasted one year, and then I was layed off. I returned to banking, this time as a loan secretary (typing all the loan docs).
My relationship was exciting. George was 21 years my senior, and I looked up to him. He was 46, I 25. We would have dinner in San Francisco, explore Napa Valley on the wine train, had season tickets to the Oakland A’s baseball games, etc. We seemed very compatible.
Three years into my relationship with George, he retired from his career as an Air Traffic Controller. We never intended to marry, but he wanted me to inherit his monthly annuity should something happen to him. We were married in a private ceremony, this time with family members present.
After the wedding, we bought an RV. All of our furniture was put into storage. My car was part of the down payment on the motorhome. George’s car was loaned to his youngest daughter. Yes, he had two grown daughters, just a few years younger than me, and 3 grandchildren.
What I haven’t mentioned so far is that George was an alcoholic. I didn’t grow up around alcohol. At first, I was intrigued that George and I would share of bottle (or jug) of wine each evening. Much later, I came to realize he was a functioning alcoholic. But, when his career was over, he had no reason to stay sober.
We traveled across the US 4 times over 2 years, staying with his friends in Sarasota Florida both winters. We visited his family in North Carolina, and many state parks and monuments.
But this retired George would start each morning with alcohol. He added Brandy to his intake. Shots of brandy with a wine chaser. There were some frightening evenings where he would do asinine things (wave a gun around, let his dog loose in an RV campground in the middle of the night, cook dinner while drunk). Soon, all I wanted was to be back home.
Funny thing is, when we traveled back to California, I didn’t want to leave him. I was in my own little cocoon. I had no friends, no car, no money. There’s a comfort level with the known.
Part 3 has now been posted.