Well, I found out tonight that the papers that I signed and had notarized last week made their way back to the soon to be the former Mrs. Translator’s attorney. Everything seems to be in order, and unless the judge finds something wrong, it will be final next Wednesday.
Thus ends 32 years of marriage, and 34 years of infatuation. But it was always more than infatuation. Certainly there was a definite bit of sexual attraction at first, because she was (and is) so very beautiful, but there was always more.
I remember the spring afternoon when we met. I was almost 18, and she was 16. She drove her mum’s 1976 sky blue Camaro into the driveway of someone who I thought was a friend (he was not, but was very good at his deception). I saw this angelic face, surrounded with long, raven hair, and with a voice like I never heard before.
“Hi, I’m xxxx.” (sorry, to preserve her anonymity, the name had to be redacted). “Hi, xxxx, I am Dave. It is nice to meet you.” She was the most beautiful girl that I have ever met, and her voice was perfect. Not at all shrill, not at all squeaky, just a nice, full, but exquisitely feminine one. My mum commented later that she always knew when xxxx called, because her voice was so attractive.
I was dating another girl at the time. She was very nice, but not anything like xxxx. The other one just did not “get it” like xxxx did. I mean that in a kind way and have only kind memories for the former girlfriend. She was, and is, a wonderful person. Just not the person for me. I have bumped into her from time to time even after xxxx and I were married, and she was nothing but nice, and helpful.
Breaking up with a girlfriend is a difficult thing, but she and I finally did. I still have a place in my heart for her, since we were both virgins until we became entangled. It is a wonder that we did not produce a child when I was way too young to have one (and so was she), but sometimes folks get lucky, both her and me. But I am getting too far ahead.
My first real girlfriend was Sherrie (this is so far back that I think her real identity is protected, and she was a perfect lady, never doing the big nasty with me). She was very petite, very, very pretty, and could kiss like no tomorrow. Interestingly, her dad knew mine, and they liked each other very much. This was just when I was legal to drive, and we went to movies, to fast food restaurants, and made out in the car. She broke up with me the day after I caressed her breasts. It was probably for the best, because we were both too young for the logical conclusion of that activity. I was heartbroken, but got over it. By the way, she was distantly related to the drummer for The Doors. I still wonder how she is, and wish the best for her.
In any event, Tricia and I dated for a long time. She had a very lithe body, and also had really large, natural breasts. My brother, always the wit, wondered if I would suffocate some day, holding her. She was very nice, and we grew up together, sexually. But we never connected on a higher plane.
Then I met xxxx. About the third month that I knew her, she overdosed (intentionally) on antidepressants and damn near died. What a way to meet someone.
She got over it, and finally told me why. I will not do into details, but will say that her reasons were satisfactory.
Well, love bloomed them. She was better, but there was still Tricia. I finally talked with Tricia, and we broke it off in an amicable manner. That was hard. I still think very well of Tricia.
So now it was xxxx and me. We became inseparable, and were for a long time. I am talking about decades. I asked her to marry me in 1976, after she was graduated from high school, and she agreed. It just gets more complicated hence.