When I was a child, I loved the attention. I craved it. I wanted to be told I looked pretty. When we were little, mom always dressed us up for holidays and Sunday outings.
For Easter, we would wear dresses with ribbons and bows, a fancy bonnet, and shiny, patent leather shoes with a matching purse. Even my little brother had to endure a suit and tie, with all six of his sisters fussing over him.
When my older sisters were off doing teenage stuff, I was the leader. My younger siblings and I would play in the backyard, perform actually, for the neighbourhood kids.
We even charged them an admission fee to come and watch us. Usually, we played “witchy-poo” fashioned after a favourite television show of ours at the time.
With my long dark hair, slightly pointed nose, and high pitched screeches, I was the wicked witch. You should hear my cackle!
My late sister, two years younger than me, was usually my side-kick, while the younger ones were the kids I would torment.
Another favourite of ours was to play “snatch this pebble from my hand”…anyone recognize that one?
I loved to have my picture taken and be the centre of attention. I was quite vain.
But things changed as I came into my teen years. Going from a small grade school where you knew most of the kids to a big, high school with all kinds of kids you didn’t know was quite intimidating.
This was when the confident little girl changed into an insecure young woman, unsure of how to fit in with the “cool” crowd.
I was fortunate enough to get a part-time job after school at a retail warehouse. I worked there from grade 10 through college.
Several girls from my high school also worked there, and over the years, we became the best of friends. We are still good friends after all these years, but back then, even with my friends, I felt inadequate.
You see, my parents split, then divorced while I was a young teen. Back then, that was unheard of, especially in my very white, middle-class neighbourhood.
Most of my girlfriends were dreaming of marriage and preparing their “hope chests,” filling them with the things their mothers taught them were important. They were picking out their patterns for china, crystal, silver, and linens. They had been taught how to sew, cook, and bake.
My mother was gone. She left seven children with no mother to teach them the life skills that seemed so necessary at that time.
My father struggled to do his best, but with six daughters, he didn’t have a clue what we needed.
I was also a bit of a late bloomer in terms of having the kind of figure the boys went after.
The popular girls were athletic, with long legs, well-developed boobs, and long (usually blonde) hair.
I, on the other hand, was short, a little plump, and was lucky if I could fill a 32A bra. No push up for me, nothing to push!
Back then, my best friends and I would go to dances and parties, looking for love. Most of my friends had boyfriends, but whoever was single would join me on the weekends trolling the bars and discos like the Generator, Misty’s, or others that were so popular at the time.
I could tell you stories about the wild adventures my girlfriends and I shared during those years, but that would be another book.
This book is all about love, passion, and betrayal!
Sex. That’s what boys wanted then, and that’s what men want now. Well, most of them.
I met my husband a little later in life than most of my friends. While they got married, bought houses, and had babies, I was still searching for my guy.
Then, after years of being alone, going to parties and dances, trying so hard to find my Mr. Right, it finally happened.
I met this great guy; he was handsome, smart, and funny. He had a great sense of humor. He was a real jock, a hockey player!
We worked for the same company, both of us in sales. We met at the company Christmas party. He was so good looking and so much fun to be with. Everyone liked him.
He and I were great buddies. We had so many laughs. We went skiing, joined a bowling league, played volleyball, baseball, squash, and so much more.
He loved going to the cottage, and it was a big part of our life. We enjoyed ourselves so much together.
He was my best friend.
We did everything together when he wasn’t out playing hockey and drinking beer with the boys.
But SEX was not one of those things. For whatever reason, romance and fun in bed were not one of our shared activities.
It was a challenge getting pregnant under those circumstances, but it did happen.
Mainly because I almost had an affair!
One night we had a party with his hockey buddies. There was this one guy. You know the kind…the one, all the women, find sexy, even though now I see sleazy, was a better description.
At the time, I thought he was hot. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. He was well built and was single. Most of the other guys had wives or serious girlfriends. This guy always showed up with someone new.
But that night, he was alone. Everyone was drinking, having a great time. Then all of a sudden, everyone was gone, including my husband.
While he had slipped away to bed, that guy was still sticking around. As the hostess, I was left alone with him, and one thing led to another…
No…we did not go all the way, but my husband did come downstairs and catch us with his hand down my top!
My husband did not get mad. He did not yell. He did not punch that dude out…even though he knew that guy was scum. Because he knew in his heart, he was not giving me what I needed. So things changed.
We decided it was time to have a baby. It took a few months of trying…and I mean TRYING!
My husband even insisted I stand on my head for half an hour while he went downstairs and had a beer. He tried to convince me this would make things move in the right direction.
Well, I was not that stupid, but what the heck, I really wanted a baby.
And that’s how my son was conceived.
My son brought all the joy to my life that was missing.
My husband and I were both thrilled. I had never seen him so happy or proud as when he walked around with our little boy on his chest in his nifty little carrier.
Life was finally going the way we wanted. I had my little family. We bought a house and moved out of Toronto, got a boat, and even started to fool around again and then…