Frank liked to make his Camaro dance. At the time, I knew it was dangerous and really didn’t like it. But he was a former Marine who enjoyed showing off. He would hit the brakes then let the car glide forward, followed by cranking the brakes again to whatever 1967 tune the new disc jockey, Jerry G. Bishop, spun on the Chicago radio station. I was sure I would die any minute and finally told him it was me or his dancing machine maneuvers.
Frank knew better than to disappoint my mother, Alice, who had asked him for a favor. She was his colleague at an employment agency downtown. As I later learned, he had been recruited by her to woo me, so I’d break up with the guy I was dating who wanted to marry me. Why she thought a twenty-four-year-old would be suitable for a seventeen-year-old is still a bit of a mystery. But her plan worked, at least for a while. He gave up his Camaro tangoing and I gave up the other guy.
He liked taking me to restaurants, the zoo, and outings to Fox Lake. I remember the first time I had lobster was with him. The restaurant in downtown Chicago tied a huge bib on you and let you figure out the rest. I still see his grin. Mostly he enjoyed playing pinochle with my parents and grandmother on Saturday nights until 2:00 in the morning. We played a lot of cards. I think they felt it kept me occupied and out of trouble. But of course, parents prefer fiction when they have teens.
About six months into the relationship, something bad happened. Frank got serious. He told my mother he planned a surprise engagement party for me and was going to pop the question at the event. Alice cautioned him that wasn’t part of their original arrangement and besides, it was a terrible idea. Apparently, there was no talking him out of it. Frank insisted on keeping with his big reveal scenario.
By this time, I had outgrown both his shenanigans and pinochle. I was tired of being locked into a relationship. When my mother told me what the plan was, I panicked. On our next date, Frank was very nervous and apparently forgot my “ no dancing car” rule. Thankfully, he decided to make the Camaro boogaloo to “Light My Fire” by the Doors. A true gift from the universe! I heard freedom calling my name and baled, leaving him with the “You’ll always be my friend” farewell address.
— Mugsy
Frank knew better than to disappoint my mother, Alice, who had asked him for a favor. She was his colleague at an employment agency downtown. As I later learned, he had been recruited by her to woo me, so I’d break up with the guy I was dating who wanted to marry me. Why she thought a twenty-four-year-old would be suitable for a seventeen-year-old is still a bit of a mystery. But her plan worked, at least for a while. He gave up his Camaro tangoing and I gave up the other guy.
He liked taking me to restaurants, the zoo, and outings to Fox Lake. I remember the first time I had lobster was with him. The restaurant in downtown Chicago tied a huge bib on you and let you figure out the rest. I still see his grin. Mostly he enjoyed playing pinochle with my parents and grandmother on Saturday nights until 2:00 in the morning. We played a lot of cards. I think they felt it kept me occupied and out of trouble. But of course, parents prefer fiction when they have teens.
About six months into the relationship, something bad happened. Frank got serious. He told my mother he planned a surprise engagement party for me and was going to pop the question at the event. Alice cautioned him that wasn’t part of their original arrangement and besides, it was a terrible idea. Apparently, there was no talking him out of it. Frank insisted on keeping with his big reveal scenario.
By this time, I had outgrown both his shenanigans and pinochle. I was tired of being locked into a relationship. When my mother told me what the plan was, I panicked. On our next date, Frank was very nervous and apparently forgot my “ no dancing car” rule. Thankfully, he decided to make the Camaro boogaloo to “Light My Fire” by the Doors. A true gift from the universe! I heard freedom calling my name and baled, leaving him with the “You’ll always be my friend” farewell address.
— Mugsy
This rings so true. I had something similar happen to me and it was such a relief when I had an excuse to break up with the guy.
ReplyDeleteTruth or fiction. A well told tale
ReplyDeleteFrank, Frank, you're kiddin' yerself! Fun story! ---Macoff
ReplyDelete