Why not? Well, you surely suspect by now, young S’s road to happiness had twists and turns along the way. A happy ending was not to be rushed – soap operas simply do not unfold that way. There is more to take in along the way.
Like the breeze that swooped down from Colorado my junior year of college and swept me off my feet. What’s that, S? Another suitor? Tell us more. Now there, you are rushing me again, let me set the stage.
I worked part-time all through college. I may have mentioned working at the psychiatric office of Drs. J and J. After a couple of
Some too friendly – one VP and the office manager each divorced their spouses to be together. That same VP, 15 years my senior, had made a pass at me too, which I managed to sidestep without too much lasting awkwardness in the office.
(S really was living in a soap opera serial those days.)
Let me expound – lest you think I had worked in a den of sin. The executive VP in charge was a silver haired salesman with the just right combination of charm and smooth talk to be able to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge in a New York minute, and with the integrity to warn you of the pitfalls of real estate investing in the next. His wife was the bookkeeper and they treated me like a daughter, encouraging me to get my real estate license. I was not planning on selling, but the information helped me in many ways with the job. Alas, some life lessons cannot be taught, but only learned in the school of hard knocks. Can you hear that knocking all ready?
Anyway, the President of the company was also the owner of an insurance agency in the same building. He was hands-on in insurance and hands-off in the real estate firm, except when he provided a summer job to the son of an old friend of his. Sometimes it’s who you know that gets you in the door. Knock, knock!
Enter one cute, sandy-headed college student who was also studying accounting, at least, when it suited him.
Believe you me, he didn’t look like an accountant, didn’t talk like one, didn’t even walk like one. He had a saunter just shy of a swagger – and it looked good on him. He had a quick wit, a confident manner, a winning smile and hair bleached blonde by the sun. (Whew, things were heating up.)
He was attending a private Jesuit college in Colorado, although he was originally from Minnesota. A good Midwestern Catholic boy – my oh my! I remember my older sister asking me – could he be Mr. Right? Hmmm . . .
His friends called him Breezy.
Yep, right there. That’s when I should have paid heed; knocked myself upside the head for thinking it was just a play on his name. Silly me, oblivious to possible deeper meaning. That summer we enjoyed being one couple out of several that were connected to the office and socialized outside of it. It was fun, a lot of fun.
Until I began to realize that Breezy was descriptive of his attitude. He wasn’t sure he wanted to finish his degree, he breezed through making average grades and that was good enough. He might stay on in St. Louis and sit out a semester to figure out what suited him. Well, S, that’s not so bad or all that unusual. And it means you get to spend more time with him. Hmmm. . .
Until I realized that Breezy could be his relationship with the truth. After he had gone home to Minnesota for a long weekend, I noticed a stack of pictures on his coffee table which included him with a pretty brunette. He breezily explained that she was his former girlfriend. Those were current, just last weekend, pictures! I dumped him.
Now, of course, I totally get that holding on, can’t let go dilemma (see prior episodes of Days of Our Lives). At least I was smart enough to never see him again.
Except . . . of course . . . for the one last time when he showed up at my apartment – all blonde roguish good looks with the charm turned up full blast. At least it was him chasing me, and not the other way around. It took all the self-discipline I had to send him (after one spectacular last kiss) on his way - back north to Minnesota, land of ten thousand brunettes.
It turns out that he got himself into some minor trouble shortly thereafter (surprise, surprise). Although able to talk himself out of it (no surprise there either), the President who had given him the job, promptly sent him home to his father. There young S would have been giddy to report, he was also dumped by the current/former/current girlfriend -- for good. Eventually, Breezy became a financial advisor
Meanwhile, what about poor S! Who might drive by on a motorcycle, drag her out to camp under the stars or otherwise turn her head before Mr. Right shows up? Stay tuned!