On First Meeting Michelle—Did Not Go So Well–It Got Better, But Then I Fucked It Up. (As Usual)

The Beatles Live- Michelle My Belle:

Cred for Vid Share: Maco939

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It Got Better, But Then I Fucked It Up. (As Usual) And if You are Assuming, Presuming, It Was Physical Abuse, Then You Are Deluded. And Have Not ‘Read’ Me—It Was ‘Neglect’ On My Part: Michelle Expected More From Me Than I Was Capable of Giving. That Was It. I am An Idiot! I Threw Away The Love of A Good Woman and a Kindred Spirit. She Was My Chance to Grasp That Brass Ring! A Military Woman–Whom I Respected! A True Patriot! And A Bona-Fide Sailor! And Like A Fool, I Just Let Her Walk Away.

I Know This Photo Below Is A Brit She-Sailor,

But I Love Her Face

And

She Is ALMOST As Beautiful

As

“My Michelle”

Michelle, ma belle
These are words that go together well
My Michelle
Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble
I love you, I love you, I love you
That’s all I want to say
Until I find a way
I will say the only words I know that you’ll understand

Author’s Note:

This Was Yet Another Relationship That I Managed to Mangle & Fuck Up.

&

Let Her Slip Away

Yes! I Have Regrets!

In The Recruit Training Command at That time There Was A Volunteer Program We Could “Volunteer” For. It Was Called “Saturday Scholars” One Could Get Out of Saturday Duty if one Signed Up.

Michelle and I Signed Up.

The ‘Program’ Was to go to The Inner-City Ghettos of Chicago and Tutor Poor Black Kids. Michelle and I Were actually Very Sincere About This ‘Work’ and We Bonded Every Saturday as we rode the Bus To Chicago. We Wanted to do Good Work–Serve The Community–Honourably Represent Our Navy.

Which We Both Loved Equally

I loved her very much–Even More Than The Navy

We Were Cut From The Same Cloth, I Thought, but as I said,

I Eventually Managed to Fuck That Up Somehow

I am very Good In This Regard

Call me An ‘Overachiever’ If You Must

South Park: In the Ghetto:

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Elvis Presley – In the Ghetto

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Dateline: Late 1985

Time: 0800 hrs.

Geographical Location: Great Mistakes Naval Training Center—Just south of Chicago.

Venue: A Navy Auditorium

Suspect: One Ricky-Recruit, AKA

“Marcom-The Moron”

*Slips now into first-person narrative*

I had arrived just a little later than was prudent.

Hence, no seats in the back of the venue.

Searched about. Scanning…

Only open seats were in the front row.

****

I took myself up-front, found a seat next to a serious-looking blond she-sailor, decked out in freshly pressed dress blues. AJ-Squared-Away, she was.

Old Military / Sailor Saw: “Never sit up front and never volunteer for nothin.

I had already broken the first rule. I was about to Break The Second…

****

I was in dungarees—not pressed. Certainly not ‘AJ-Squared away’… slightly hung-over, if I am aiming at honest narrative here.

‘Under-Dressed’ does not even come close.

I had plopped down to her starboard.

Risked a look at her.

(I had already lost myself in her eyes)

She sensed my gaze, looked me dead in my eye and said,

“What are you staring at Sailor? Hi. My name is Michelle. What’s yours?” She said as she extended her hand.

I shook her hand and was surprised to experience a very firm grip/handshake.

A Naval Officer took to the old, very old wooden podium and began his spiel, trying to sell us on ‘Saturday Scolars.’ and drag out some volunteers.

Michelle went Eyes-Front: Intensely paying serious Military Attention.

I did not.

I kept gazing at her…

To the point of being too obvious.

Oh! And BTW, it did not escape me that she was a 3rd Class Petty Officer.

And an ‘ET–Electronics Techincian’

An E-4

She seriously ‘out-ranked’ me–in Brains and Beauty

And, obvious to me:

Out-Classed me.

In the Nav, we called them ‘IPO’s

“Instant Petty Officer”

If you Graduate from the ‘Right Navy School,’ you are auto-magically promoted.

I was, my own self, enrolled in such a school, but the successful end game—of MY Graduation—was tenuous at best.

Not my intent to bash Y’all over the head with a not-so-subtle…

But this do serve my narrative.

Serves it well…

Well….

Credit: Ethereal Music

To be continued…

Previously

“Goin’ To The Chapel…”

Thus proving my point.

HEM had four wives.

I had four and a half.

I am half a wife ahead.

***

“And We’re Gonna Get Married”

My first wife and I got married in Jaffa Israel, an ancient Phoenician Seaport just south of Tel Aviv. The ceremony was performed by a Baptist Minister from Oklahoma in a Presbyterian Church which was maintained by Catholic Missionaries from Sweden.

(Now that right there shoulda told us we were testing Providence)

There were but two witnesses. (Co-workers of ours from Sinai Field Mission who just happened to be in town)

Twenty minutes before the ceremony, my soon to-be-bride and I were hitting all the jewelry stores on Dizengoff Street shopping for wedding rings. Could not find any that suited us or fit.

The clerks always had the same response:

“No problem; I can have it resized and you may pick it up tomorrow.”

We anxiously explained, “But we are getting married in just a few minutes.”

Jewish weddings are a great big hairy deal; so naturally, we were met with gasps of shocked amazement when we announced our time constraint. We tried to explain we weren’t Jewish, but that took just too much time, so we ran from shop to shop.

We finally, and at the very last minute, settled on two plain gold bands (which did not fit), purchased from the jewelry shop in the hotel where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the ‘Wedding Party’.

We all proceeded to Jaffa. My bride was wearing a black dress and I was in blue jeans. My woman and I tied the knot, (loosely, as it turned out). I gave the Okie preacher fifty bucks and we split.

The marriage didn’t stick, but we remain friends to this day.

My next wedding took place in Las Vegas.

My Bride and I got hitched in a venue called ‘The Chapel of Love’.

An Elvis impersonator performed the rites for two hundred bucks. (My woman was an Elvis fan, so what the hell). For fifty bucks more, he would sing ‘Love Me Tender’ A cappella. My girl, ever so frugal, suggested we pass on that.

If she had known that within just a few short hours I would be tossing black chips onto a craps table, she might have seriously considered his offer of serenade.

Next wedding was performed by a Justice of the Peace, who showed up two hours late due to some inescapable last-minute JP business which could not wait. By the time she arrived the Wedding Party (and I do mean ‘Party’) were all hopelessly drunk on Champagne. We did the deed and then all got hopelessly drunker. Several expensive champagne flûtes bit the dust that night, if memory serves… Was a great wedding, as those things go.

Last wedding took place in Arkansas and was just lovely.

None of these weddings took firm hold, I am sorry to say.

Apparently marriage to me is not much more binding than a hand-shake.

Now… Y’all. I am of course not making light of marriage. I do believe in its sanctity. (For other people) It just doesn’t appear to be right for This Cowboy.

 

 

Video Credit: patricia du prée

 

Video credit: Holger Syme

************

Thanks for your visit and thanks to Mark for putting this post in my head, sorta like an ear worm.

Cheers to you Mark! My Friend.

“Goin’ To The Chapel…”

“And We’re Gonna Get Married”

My first wife and I got married in Jaffa Israel, an ancient Phoenician Seaport just south of Tel Aviv. The ceremony was performed by a Baptist Minister from Oklahoma in a Presbyterian Church which was maintained by Catholic Missionaries from Sweden.

(Now that right there shoulda told us we were testing Providence)

There were but two witnesses. (Co-workers of ours from Sinai Field Mission who just happened to be in town)

Twenty minutes before the ceremony, my soon to-be-bride and I were hitting all the jewelry stores on Dizengoff Street shopping for wedding rings. Could not find any that suited us or fit.

The clerks always had the same response:

“No problem; I can have it resized and you may pick it up tomorrow.”

We anxiously explained, “But we are getting married in just a few minutes.”

Jewish weddings are a great big hairy deal; so naturally, we were met with gasps of shocked amazement when we announced our time constraint. We tried to explain we weren’t Jewish, but that took just too much time, so we ran from shop to shop.

We finally, and at the very last minute, settled on two plain gold bands (which did not fit), purchased from the jewelry shop in the hotel where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the ‘Wedding Party’.

We all proceeded to Jaffa. My bride was wearing a black dress and I was in blue jeans. My woman and I tied the knot, (loosely, as it turned out). I gave the Okie preacher fifty bucks and we split.

The marriage didn’t stick, but we remain friends to this day.

My next wedding took place in Las Vegas.

My Bride and I got hitched in a venue called ‘The Chapel of Love’.

An Elvis impersonator performed the rites for two hundred bucks. (My woman was an Elvis fan, so what the hell). For fifty bucks more, he would sing ‘Love Me Tender’ A cappella. My girl, ever so frugal, suggested we pass on that.

If she had known that within just a few short hours I would be tossing black chips onto a craps table, she might have seriously considered his offer of serenade.

Next wedding was performed by a Justice of the Peace, who showed up two hours late due to some inescapable last-minute JP business which could not wait. By the time she arrived the Wedding Party (and I do mean ‘Party’) were all hopelessly drunk on Champagne. We did the deed and then all got hopelessly drunker. Several expensive champagne flûtes bit the dust that night, if memory serves… Was a great wedding, as those things go.

Last wedding took place in Arkansas and was just lovely.

None of these weddings took firm hold, I am sorry to say.

Apparently marriage to me is not much more binding than a hand-shake.

Now… Y’all. I am of course not making light of marriage. I do believe in its sanctity. (For other people) It just doesn’t appear to be right for This Cowboy.

 

Video Credit: patricia du prée

Video credit: Holger Syme

************

Thanks for your visit and thanks to Mark for putting this post in my head, sorta like an ear worm.

Cheers to you Mark! My Friend.