# Four

When I dropped out of school in the summer of 1964 at the age of fifteen, my parents were expecting. They found out in mid September that were expecting twins. My dad went out and found a job as a carpenter. He had never built anything before. But in no time at all his boss B J (who's parents also didn't have time to pick out a real name) could see that dad was a natural. He ended up making a very good living from his "accidental" career.


There was another big event that summer. One Saturday afternoon, my cousin Jan, who lived a mile or so down the same dirt road I lived on, asked me to go to town with her that night to meet her boyfriend Ray. To my surprise, mom and dad said OK.


She picked me up in her dads black 1950 Ford coupe. After picking me up, she pulled off to the side of the road and reached under the dash to dis-connect the odometer. (Her dad always checked the mileage because they thought they were keeping her on a short leash).


We drove to town and pulled into the Dairy Queen where Ray was waiting in a car with his friend Don. Within a few minutes, Jan said that she and Ray were going to "park" for awhile and I could hang out with Don till they returned.


I was a real dumb ass back then. Maybe still am!


After chatting and laughing and getting more comfortable around Don, he said that he knew Jan and Ray wouldn't be back any time soon and we should just go driving around town. That's what everyone seemed to be doing.


Now know this: At this point I had only made out with two boys in my life. Plus one girl! When I was nine, my BFF across the street wanted to know how it felt to kiss on the lips. I was curious myself, so we tried it. The curiosity was over in a few seconds!


Don drove me through town and down a dark road to Mill Creek, which was a local swimming hole for teens.


He came close to me and we started making out. Within a couple of minutes I was pushing his hands away. Everything happened so fast. I was saying STOP STOP STOP as he was pushing me around and under the stirring wheel. He had his for arm on my neck while pulling my panties off with his other hand. I was crying by now, but it was too late. I had just been raped!


I jumped out of the car. My first instinct was to jump off of the bridge we were parked by. He started saying I wanted it and I asked for it. He said he didn't know I was a virgin or he would have stopped. Yeah right!


I didn't even know what "IT" was! That's how naive I was!


I had no idea how people had sex or even how people got pregnant. Or even where babies came from.


He drove me back to meet Jan and I acted like nothing happened. I wasn't sure what did happen or what it was called. That wasn't talked about where and when I grew up.


This next part is really going to freak you out!!!


In my own young mind, I knew I was now one of the "bad" girls. I thought that since I had sex with him, we would have to get married.


Jan had said that Don wanted to see me again (I bet he did) and I said OK.


Knowing that my parents wouldn't let me date, I started making up lies about walking to Jan's several nights a week. We didn't have a phone, so there was no way they could check up. I would meet Don, who I found out was eight years older than me, and we would have sex, then I would walk home.


Within a few months my parents somehow found out that I was "dating" someone. When mom asked me about it, I started crying my eyes out and said I wanted to marry him. She asked me if I was pregnant? Thank "whoever", I wasn't.


They talked it over and said I had to wait a year. Fine with me!


My Parents twins had already been born. They were infants when all this happened.


Then we moved to the new town.


My mother found out she was pregnant again! At least we were finally living in a four room house with running water. The house we had lived in for two and a half years had no running water. Running water is something only working people can afford.
I need to say more but telling this has nearly sucked the life right out of me...See you soon.

Who Am I

I recently turned sixty one. I think I look really good for my age. That's thanks in part to genetics, but also because if people are busy checking out my hair or how I dress, they won't be able to see inside me.
There are a lot of people who have had harder lives than me, but this is about me.
That's somewhat hypocritical because I'm always saying we live in a "I, Me, My" society. Back to ME.
Something happened to me when I turned fifty. I thought I had decided not to give a shit what people thought of me and not to be afraid anymore.
I did suddenly gain more self confidence and the ability to tell everyone exactly what I thought of them. I became an evil bitch, and for the first time in my life I knew I had a survival skill!
I was born at the end of 1948. Nine months and two weeks after my parents got married.
Like most married couples my parents had babies for no reason at all. They loved each other very much, even though they had only known each other for two months before getting married. Mom was twenty and dad was twenty three.
My mom had been married when she was eighteen. She grew up in the south (boot heel of Missouri) and her family of nine moved to Michigan when she was sixteen for work. Mom was the oldest of seven children and was made to leave school and help support her family. Shortly after moving to Michigan, her parents received a letter from the mother of a boy back in Missouri. Apparently my impetuous young mother had romanticized in letters to this woman's son who had just gotten out of the military, that she would marry him when she returned home. Her father said she must keep her promise of marrying the boy. I believe that decision was mostly based on the fact that the boys family had money. I'm sure they thought she would have a better life.
When in fact, she was married off to an alcoholic sexual sadist.
She survived rapes, beatings and the birth of a son. The baby was a Blue Baby and at that time there was no hope of survival and the infant lived for two months. The asshole husband died shortly thereafter in an auto crash. God does perform miracles. Why does he watch the torture first?
My parents had a long love affair that lasted fifty five years. They died a year apart.
This story is about how I became the fucked up waman I am today.
I plan to continue the saga by posting at least one a week. Or whenever the mood strikes.