Skip to main content

YOU MAKE HER CRY, I'LL MAKE YOU CRY

    One of my greatest regrets, is the cavalier attitude I often took with the females of my youth.  In retrospect, I seemed to mount a "full court press" and would pursue a young lady with vigor to attain her attention and affection.  Once the relationship was established, she assumed I wanted us to be together, while in reality I wanted out. 

   I fear I was simply lonely.  Even in a relationship, I would feel alone, with no sense of romance or enjoyment of the individual's company.  This led to slowly becoming irritated with the need to appear interested,  even though I was the one who had aggressively pursued the liaison.  I would become annoyed that she expected to see me on a consistent basis, simply because I had led her to believe this is what I wanted.  Eventually we would stop seeing one another.  I felt like a heel, she would often weep, asking why this was happening and I had no good answer, other than I was an immature jerk, who enjoyed the chase. Once the chase was over, I lost interest and was clearly playing too lightly with the feelings of vulnerable maidens. 

     I got married when I was 23,  shouldn't have and was rebounding from yet another train wreck relationship.  I had just moved back to Texas for a new mall assignment, was lonely and started seeing a young lady I knew from college.  We dated a short period of time, decided to marry and began an ill-planned, 17-year roller coaster ride, doomed from inception.  I was not a good candidate for marriage at that time in my life, neither was she and we proved it.  We did produce two great sons, which helped make the pain worthwhile.

     After the divorce,  I met an intelligent, lovely woman, with whom I was immediately smitten.   I attempted to fall into the old habit of the "full court press",  but she kept me in check.  She had a great life without me, a wonderful 10 year old daughter, a good job and was respected in her field.  She has a strong faith, taught Sunday School, loves her family and would not put up with any of my bullshit (still won't).  She was kind to my two boys and her daughter was kind to all of us.  After 3 years,  we were in love and got married.    My boys,  Nancy,  Lisa and I all moved in together, along with her great dog... it has been a wonderful 24 years.   

     Now, I am getting some payback for my misspent youth.  I love my stepdaughter Lisa, as much as I love anyone or anything in the world.  Remembering what a schmuck I was in my youth, I have always looked at her admirers that came around, with a jaundiced eye.  My wife, Nancy is a lot smarter than me and does not fret as much on these issues.  My outlook regarding our daughter has been more primal.

     I adopted a phrase from Conrad Dobler's playbook..."You make her cry and I will make you cry".   "If my daughter agrees to date you, you will date her as long as she wants you around.  If you bring it to closure any earlier, I will for sure make you cry,  and we're maybe talking about hospital time."  You see,  I know there are cad's out there that trifle with innocent women and should be punished ...I know they are out there because they look like me.

     A young man, whom Lisa had dated for a long time and who we had grown to love,  asked me for her hand in marriage.  "You bet, but you know..."

     He said, "I know, if I make her cry,  you will make me cry".   He told his parents he was getting married and what he and I had agreed on.     

     His father said, "Well, if I were you, I would be sure to never make her cry".     

     Now...the plot thickens.  I suddenly have 4 granddaughters, all 6 years of age or younger!  It is no longer funny.  You make HER cry, I make YOU die.  I am rapidly approaching 70, by the time they begin dating I will be close to 80.  I have enjoyed a wonderful life, but would cheerfully makes changes in my lifestyle, if necessary.     I own a gun, a shovel and I do not mind going to prison...three hot meals a day and a cot!
  My children will not have to worry about their daughters' relationships with young men.  I am on the hunt and owe a debt to serve as the guardian to my little girls.

     When I finally check out of this life and get to heaven, I am applying for a job as a guardian angel.  I hope to be assigned to some lonely, knucklehead like me and ride him relentlessly to be a better person.  Turn inward, have faith in God and do not assume a relationship will cure loneliness.  You are not fit company until you are happy with yourself.  Only then can you make a positive contribution to someone else's life. 

     So, I do not care...future generations of hormone crazed young men, of your motivation, if you are lonely or bored.  If you make my granddaughters, great-granddaughters or any of the women in my life cry, I will come back from the after life and track you down...every mother's son of you.  You will feel my presence and it will not be pretty.    Until that day,  be a man...be kind to all God's creation, but especially to all my ladies.   It is for your own good.  



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

CAROL ANN COFFEE, YOU PLUCKED OUT MY HEART AND SQUISHED IT LIKE A GRAPE

      Two of my granddaughters are graduating from the second grade this month.   This realization produced a major flashback of my own graduation from second grade at Jefferson Elementary in Sherman, Texas, in May of 1958.      The last day of class we received our graduation certificates in a ceremony, followed by a picnic on the school grounds.   As we gathered our sack lunches, I saw a vacant seat at the table, adjacent to CAROL ANN COFFEE!   I had spent the entire school year worshipping Carol Ann Coffee from afar.   She was always pleasant, but didn’t really give me much thought.   I often sat on a bench during lunch watching her play or jump rope, daydreaming she would ask me to play with her.   Not unlike Charlie Brown from “Peanuts” who imagined the little red-hair girl paying attention to him, I was transfixed with Carol Ann Coffee.   She was taller than me, wore an abundance of petticoats and always appeared fresh and pretty.   I loved her laugh, her eyes would spa
Post a Comment
Read more

BUCKY SAPPENFIELD FROM SHERMAN, TEXAS

    I grew up with the handle, Bucky Sappenfield.  At first glance, it does not appear too difficult, but there is something about the human brain that does not process my name.  Any new person in my life has a tendency to butcher the name, bestowed upon me by my parents.      On the first day of the 1st grade, my new teacher was calling role, got to me on the list, studied it for a moment before asking, “BUDDY SACKERFIELD?”    I didn’t know who she was talking about and finally she stared at me and said, ”Are you Buddy?”     “BUDDY?”  Where in the world did that come from?   She looked at the paper a bit longer and said, “Oh…Bucky.”  There is just something about that name.      We had a lady at the school office who insisted on calling me by my Christian name, George.  Yet, I didn’t know who she was talking to and it caused me more than one “dressing down” when I would not respond in a timely manner.          My 8th grade Science teacher, Mrs. Tocquigny, insisted on addr
4 comments
Read more

THE DOWNTOWN SHERMAN TEXAS MONKEY

     For many years Kreager’s Feed and Seed was located on west Houston street, about half a block from the court house in downtown Sherman.   I enjoyed the dusty, musky smell in the dimly lit, cool cavern-like store.         Mr. Kreager had a sign by the front door which read, “Beware of Dog”.  I initially found this funny because the only dog on the premises was a very old, partially blind, stinky, flea bag of a mutt, with few teeth who snored in the middle of the store.  I quizzed Mr. Kreager why customers had to “Beware”.  He said,  “I want them to beware not to step on my dog.  He is an old man and has earned the right to nap without someone tripping over him.”      The store also boasted a brightly colored parrot which stood on a red pedestal.  When Mr. Kreager was occupied elsewhere, we were able to teach the bird to recite all the profanity we knew.  He was eventually reprogramed by his owner and kept closer to the main counter, under management’s watchful eye.   
1 comment
Read more