Breaking up is hard to do

“If it’s over, if it’s over, let me know, just let me know.”

-Mariah Carey

            A good friend recently went through the breakup of her marriage. Although she possesses one of the most positive outlooks of anyone I have encountered, and believe me, as an attorney who handles divorces, I have seen my share of outlooks on divorce; I wanted to make an effort to cheer her further. And so, in my newly single friend’s honor I have compiled a list of my top four personal best breakups. Brace yourself.

           

4. I just wanted Olive Garden:

Circa 1994, and the boyfriend I had dated for a little over a year, let’s call him Elrod, called me one evening to ask where I wanted to have dinner. Because Elrod was an athlete of an enormous size, we had to carefully select restaurants that had the potential of actually filling him up without cleaning out a bank account. We agreed that he would be on his way to pick me up for a nice dinner at Olive Garden, a very popular location in 1994. After fifteen minutes I began to worry, as he only lived across the complex from me. Thirty minutes later I got into my car and drove past his place. The lights were off and his truck was not parked out front. Because 1994 was years before the cell phone was carried by everyone over the age of ten, there was nothing more for me to do but return home and wait. I did not hear from him again for three months.

3. The block:

After the break up with Elrod I was on a date with a cute fellow who right down to his perfect blonde hair bore a striking resemblance to a Ken doll. We had gone to dinner, maybe even at the Olive Garden, and he pulled up in front of my place, put the car in park, turned and looked into my eyes. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for a goodnight kiss. I felt him lean over and my heart began to flutter. Even with closed eyes I could tell the interior light had come on but it still took a second for me to realize that he had missed my mouth completely and simply leaned over to open my door.  I was confused, until I turned to exit the vehicle and saw Elrod sleeping in a lounge chair on my porch. The chair strained under his weight and his arms and legs dangled off the sides. He was snoring loudly, one half of his gigantic body covered by a blanket that on him looked like a child’s binky. “I had a great time,” Ken doll said, “but I am not stepping over that to get you into the house.”

2. I just dated you because I hate your ex-boyfriend:

For two years I dated and adored a gentleman we will call Dud. When he ended the relationship he filled me in on a little secret I could have gone my entire life without knowing. It appears that he was in the college recruiting class with Elrod. I would never have suspected this as the Dud was of average male size. During recruitment Elrod rubbed Dud the wrong way and a one- sided grudge formed. As Elrod and I remained friends after our breakup, Dud had an occasion to see us together at a party one evening and decided this would be his moment to exact revenge. After which he courted and dated me all in an effort to one up Elrod, who, when later asked about the Dud, had no memory of him whatsoever.

1. Are you kidding me?

I once dated a nuclear engineer who worked on a Navy submarine. He went out to sea for three months at a time surfacing only a handful of times at undisclosed locations during which, if allowed, he assured me he would drop me a letter. Otherwise our only communication would be via “family-gram,” which is a telegram sent through the Naval offices, and carefully scrutinized for content. He told me this was necessary because the submarine did not make an unscheduled surface for any reason.

“What if someone dies?” I asked.

 “They put them in the freezer,” he replied matter of factly.

   

 As such, the Navy could not afford to have letters come through that would upset a crew member as they did not wish to have a love sick sailor running around crazy while under the sea.

With this little contact it would be impossible for us not to appreciate our time together and since I had just started my first year of law school I would be as time constrained as he was. I thought ours the perfect relationship. I packed him a tiny gift to open each day of his voyage and waved from the dock as he floated off into the sunset. I wrote him a family gram once a week, per Navy policy, and a month or so later I received one of those above ground mailings he had mentioned in the form of a “Dear John” letter dumping me. Yes, I was dumped from 20,000 leagues below the sea.

            I toss the gauntlet.  If you think you can top my best break ups please feel free to comment, I would love to know that I am not alone.

           

            

Mrs. America 2011

Mrs. America 2011 Preliminaries

“I am a sergeant in this army of luggage carriers.”

-Captain America

            I have to say I was shocked and honored when Elaine Marmel of the Mrs. America Organization extended an invitation for me to co-host the preliminary round of competition of the 2011 Mrs. America Pageant at the historic Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia.

I almost missed rehearsal, as I was overlooked when the memo went out clearly not a good sign- but I ran in at the last second in my gym clothes and found my marks. Since it was a special occasion I decided to have my hair and makeup professionally done. Four hours later I squeezed into a dress that fit me when I arrived, approximately six banana splits, two bottles of wine, one apple pie and a chicken pot pie ago and wobbled downstairs to the auditorium. I knew I looked good when Kevin, our stage assistant, introduced himself to me even though we had spent an entire morning working two feet from one another.

I was more than nervous to look onto the front row and find Florence Henderson, the host of the televised pageant, gazing up at me. If it isn’t hard enough trying to be cute and witty with my on stage improvisation, keeping my gut pulled in for fear of exploding from my dress and not tripping on the miles of tulle underneath my hem, I now had to add the “Mrs. Brady” factor.  She and my husband Captain America have a long history. When I competed for the title in Palm Springs in 2004, Captain America stood by my side during the top five on- stage question. Florence, who also hosted that year, glided over, radiant in a silver gown, and as she purred his name into the camera I knew Captain America was a goner. After that, he arrived at every Mrs. America hosted event looking for his special lady friend, once going as far as trying to get her to skip out of a reception and catch a Vegas show with him.  For a split second I stood on stage and allowed myself to imagine the horror the crowd would feel if I dove off the stage, a blur of black lace and tulle and full body tackled Captain America as if reenacting a scene from the World Wrestling Federation.

 I am happy to report that the preliminaries went off with no causalities and that I was allowed to co-host the entire event, something I was sure would not happen if I left the stage at intermission. The stage was beautiful and my co-host, writer, Bill Harris, was a blast. The crowd seemed to have a good time, but by far, my personal highlight was Florence coming up and hugging me at intermission and telling me that I did a great job. She said she had to do a double take when I came on stage as she absolutely did not recognize me. Do you think I should be concerned that no one recognizes me with my hair styled and face made up? I was going to dismiss the thought until the next morning, as I appeared in the lobby in my usual disheveled state and a contestant’s husband walked up to me and asked, “Didn’t you host the preliminaries?” The look on his face was that of a man who suddenly understood the meaning of the old pageant saying, “smoke and mirrors.” Fine America, point taken!