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In dealing with people both online and offline, I have been lauded - or hated - for my strong personality, my strong opinions, and my inability to censor myself. Sad as it is to admit it, my strong personality is relatively rare among today's society. People would much rather lie to everyone as well as themselves, instead of being honest and maybe having to defend themselves and their beliefs. They would rather become stale cubicle dwellers, using Dilbert and Everybody Loves Raymond to take their minds off of how bad their life, from the professional side to the family side, is fucked, than actually try to expand their experiences in life, gain some perspective, and maybe stick their necks out a little bit. When compared to even 90% of the people I work with, my life stands out simply because of the lack of any kind of filter on anything I do or have done.

This isn't something I was born with, really. I didn't really get big until my mid-teens, at which point... it's amazing what a little size and a mean streak will do with people constantly fucking with you. And furthermore, my current standing in life has been influenced by incidents that have happened in my life that have molded me.

I'm going to spend three posts writing about these experiences; think of this as a trilogy of sorts. I've only told these as an occasional anecdote in two occasions, and the last one, I've only sporadically talked about to very select people. Why am I doing this? Partly because it's theraputic, partly to entertain, but mostly to educate; I think I tell a great story, and sprinkled in with the facts are some funny stories... and with some of these incidents, I honestly think me talking about some of them can help others through my experiences.

I was also going to put this on SBNet, but decided against it due to me talking about my girlfriend.

Without further ado, part one...

When I first got out of high school, I didn't have quite the acumen with women that I have aquired since. I had lost my virginity, but I was by no means a closer; I still longed more for old girlfriends for what "could" have happened then I did for getting new ones. The fact that I was enlisted in the Delayed Entry Program to go into the Navy in November didn't help things. Put it this way: I was looking for something virtually impossible to truly achieve with my current and future situation. But I had just turned 19; I wasn't smart enough to know that. No 19 year old is really smart enough to know anything of that nature. (and before you say "But I'm a smar--" No. You're not. No one is. That's not an indictment of you personally if you're that age, but you don't know shit. I BARELY know shit, and I'm 27 in May!)

Somehow, I achieved what I was looking for. Or so I thought.

I was introduced to Amy Kryzwick by a mutual friend, Bill Boyne, who was also going into the service at around the same time. We hit it off no problem; she thought I was hot, and fuck, that's all I needed! And DAMN LOOK AT THOSE TITTIES! Amy was very generously endowed, and didn't mind showing it off. I didn't care that she was a big girl (300lbs. Easy), mainly because I've always gravitated towards larger women anyway, historically. Long story short, we hit it off no problems, and she took a couple days, but decided to say yes when I asked her out. That night, she followed me home from the rink - I thought that was a tight move at the time - and we had sex for the first time of... about a thousand. Wow! She kinda knew what she was doing! See, before, my experiences were with freshmen; 14, 15 year olds (shut up, it's more common than you think...). But she was my age, graduated with my class, and even better, had some experience. She, like, moved her hips and shit! And DAMN LOOK AT THOSE TITTIES! THEY FUCKIN' BOUNCE! AND COME BACK UP!

It doesn't take a romance writer to imagine that I was smitten. A consistent girlfriend that was sticking with me despite going into the Navy? And one that gave me consistent pussy? Sign me the fuck up! I conveiniently ignored the flaws she had, and didn't even really consider them at the time. I igonred what I thought was an unhealthy obsession with the singer Jewel ("She's so pretty! I want to be just like her...") I didn't mind her sometimes questionable hygene (one time, she had this big wet stripe on the back of her underwear. And if you think that makes you sick... well, join the fucking club), or that sometimes, she'd go a few days between showers (made worse by her weight, and the fact that women her size have skin that overlaps). I didn't really blink at the fact that the one time I went down on her - the first time ever for me - she smelled so bad that I literally almost puked (and still want to thinking about it; she turned me off to giving oral sex for so long, I didn't give any kind of oral ever again for another three years. It's a miracle I'm good at it now). I didn't matter that she was horribly clingy, and barely let me have any personal time; afterall, she's paying attention, isn't she? That's a lot better than that bitch Joleen! (Joleen Carr was the closest thing to a childhood sweetheart that I ever had, even though I was more or less a conveinience) And hell, she dated me, unlike fucking Tracy! (Tracy Tyler - now Tracy Forbes - was another teenage crush of mine that kept picking every man except me, despite telling me that she "really did like (me)!". We're still friends, thankfully) You, the reader, can see where this goes: I was way too forgiving at a time when I shouldn't be.

A few times, we almost broke up. Almost. We'd work it out. One time, we worked out an almost relationship-killing fight - at a time when I was sick to death of her and the relationship - by deciding... that we would get MARRIED! No shit, we were engaged. I mean... fucking A, if that doesn't show that I was a moron back then, nothing does. To top it off, she was making it no secret that she didn't want me to go into the service, and would really, really like it if I could find a way out of it and maybe try college (which, ironically, she bombed out of. Comfortably, after one semester, at that), or get a job so we could get married. It was getting uncomfortable. And she was getting way too accepting of unprotected sex. Naturally, I didn't notice all the warning signs. I mean, unprotected sex? It felt GREAT! As long as I pulled out, everything would be alright! And DAMN LOOK AT THOSE TITTIES!

November came, and I was supposed to ship off. The day before, she drove up with my mother and my aunt... and literally brushed them out of the way to cling to me, and had to be dragged away from me by these two that were watching their son/nephew go to the military. I noted that it was a problem, but I had other things to worry about. The next day, I went to MEPS - in short, processing for recruits - and went through a quick physical... and failed it. I didn't make weight. I hadn't been running much or doing much other than hockey at the time, but somehow, I missed the tape measurement by like an inch (in retrospect, it didn't help that he practically measured my pelvic bone). But the basic gist was that I wasn't going to the Navy just yet because they said I was too big.

OK, no problem... I came home and started a heavy weight loss program (nothing but water, running while wrapped in Seran Wrap, the works), all to lose that inch or two. Amy... kept bringing me McDonalds, Burger King, all sorts of shit. And cooking! Lots of cooking! Heavy, high-carb foods. Wait a minute... At this point, my family was openly showing their disdain for her. My Aunt has always been what I call a "litmus test"; every girlfriend she meets, except one, she has disapproved of, and been proven right. She didn't like Amanda when I was young, she didn't like Joleen, she didn't like Heather because she knew the family, and HATED Amy. The only girlfriend she's met over the years that she's liked was Jenn. But she's also really scary when she's pissed; she's blunt like me, but also 6'2" and easily 350lbs. She's also the sweetest person you'll ever meet if you're close to her, but she's still my "litmus test", to the point where, just off of what she's heard, my girlfriend calls her "Scary Aunt" (something Mary does not like, BTW; she's sensitive about scaring people off, much like I am). But Mary usually hid her disdain of whoever I was dating, out of politeness. She was no longer doing this with Amy, and neither was my mother, who isn't as tempermental as Mary, but cuts deeper. It was getting ugly.

Long story short, I made my tape measurement on December 28th, and was told that I would ship out... on December 29th. Wha! I didn't like this, but thankfully, it didn't give me time to think about it; I went home, enjoyed my last day, and went back to MEPS at 5AM to ship out to boot camp.

While at boot camp, my girlfriend was... persistent. She sent me the most letters - an accomplishment, considering the volume that my mother sent them in - and told me to "call more!". How the fuck can I call? They give us only a few phone calls over the two months, and my mother takes priority! "But we're getting married!" WARNING FLAG! Boot camp was a blessing in this sense, because I was able to get away from her manipulation, and see things for what they were. Eventually, she'd start sending letters, requesting $200 a month so she could move in with a friend who she described as "a little irresponsible" and a "heavy drinker". At this point, the warning flags are slapping the shit out of me, and this time, I said no, unequivocally. She was understanding... but this was the calm before the storm.

I graduated Boot Camp in late February, I think. She went up with my aunt and my mother. This involved a few days; there was a "meet the sailor" night, where we met our family for the first time in too long, then the actual graduation ceremony (which blew, BTW), and a few days of liberty, either on or off base. Amy was to stay until Saturday, so I could go to the Blackhawks game with my aunt and mother on Sunday. Meet the sailor night was Thursday. She was told initially by my mother "do NOT embarrass us; keep control". So what's the first thing she does? Tries to vault two rows of chairs, and the people in them. Need I remind everyone that this woman was about 300lbs.? Needless to say, this didn't work. *CRASH!* This was what I was going to marry, ladies and gentlemen!

Throughout the event, she consistently dragged me away from my family. She also consistently grabbed various parts of my body that I specifically told her NOT to grab; she could have gotten me sent back a few weeks in boot camp with her bullshit. A grap of my butt here, a fondle of my crotch there... it was pathetic. And to top it off, my sexual and literal attraction to this woman was all but gone. I just didn't want her touching me at this point, but after sticking with me, I wasn't about to tell her that; I didn't want to be a typical sailor.

On Friday, we graduated. I went up to her room to see her, and when I told her "Uh, I'd like to see my mother...", she said "You can see them later.... WARNING FLAG!!! This one was noticed. Let me put it this way: I was, for nine weeks, in a barracks with 83 other men, in a division that did not have women in it. I WANTED PUSSY. Just... not her's. I didn't even have sex with her; I frustrated the shit out of her by instead wanting to watch a game between the Rangers and Panthers that was on ESPN. In retrospect, it makes more sense than it did then. XD

Then... Saturday came.

Saturday was what we called a "duty day"; I couldn't leave the base, but I could do whatever I wanted on the base as long as I made it back to the barracks for a two hour watch. OK, cool, no problems. She was supposed to leave at 11AM to go to O'Hare and catch the plane back to Connecticut. That morning, we were playing pool, and she started having... breathing problems. She couldn't breathe. At this point, I knew something was wrong; Amy had painful ovarian cysts (and everything I've heard since says even THAT was bullshit; she was a drama queen at best), but no breathing problems, and I knew this. Either way, I figured I'd help her. "Do you need to go to medical?" "Yes, I can't fly like this! I'll die on the plane!"

You lying cunt.

I brought her to medical, and it was profound; half the time, she woudl be jumping around all happy and talking, and then, she would start wheezing and breathing heavy. It was very much as if she was a kid that was lying to get to stay home from school, but wasn't very good at it. Even I could see at this point that she was full of shit. But nonetheless, I got her to medical... where they couldn't do shit with her. Medical was for Navy personnel only, but the Ensign said she could at least check vitals. She reported back that nothing was abnormal; if anything, she just had a cold. But if she needed to be checked out further, she could go to Great Lakes Hospital.

"Do you need an ambulance?"

I decided to consult with my mother on this. I brought her back to the main social centre, but this time, I was practically dragging her; she got better at acting, fast. I got back, and she waited by the car as I found my mother. I found her and told her what was happening. She gave me this "you've got to be fucking kidding me!" look... at which point I said the best words I'd said in my life to that point:

"She's all yours."

Out she goes, and now, Amy's hanging onto the car, wheezing. My mother, as sensitively and calmly (ha!) as she could, whispered... OK, more like barked, "Shut the fuck up and get in the car". "I can't breathe!" "You're a lying bitch! Shut up and get in the fucking car!"

At this point, this woman - a grown woman, just turned 19 - dropped down, and started kicking and screaming that she didn't want to go home. I'm not kidding; she was literally throwing a temper tantrum. In a parking lot. In front of a street full of people. Four year olds are supposed to do this. Nineteen year old women? Not so much. My mother - who really is my hero - just looked at her and said "OK! You can stay! But you're not leaving that hotel room, you're not seeing him the rest of the weekend, and you're finding your own fucking way home!"

That ended the temper tantrum. She got right back up. Miraculously, her breathing was normal again! My mother was a healer! It's a miracle! And she handled that TOO well, to the point where I seriously wonder just what kind of child I was when I was young. XD

At this point, she threw herself on the trunk of the car, saying that she never wanted to go home, and she hated her father, and that she wanted a way to get out of Connecticut, she wanted to live free, etc... etc... etc... For those of you that watch good movies, there is a movie from the 80s - before everyone's time here, except Samu and I - called "An Officer and a Gentleman". In it - spoiler alert - Richard Gere's character Zack is best friends with Sid, played by eternal "That Guy" David Keith, two officer candidates that end up picking up a couple of factory worker chicks; hey, they don't know any better. After awhile, Sid's girlfriend's manipulation backfires; she lies about being pregnant, at which point Sid... quits OCS, and figures he can get a job as a manager at K-Mart. At this point, his girlfriend lets loose on him, telling him he was no longer good to him, she was lying about being pregnant, and that her whole goal in life was to get the fuck out of that backwoods town. "I want to be... the wife of an AVIATOR!" is the defining quote of this scene to me, because of how much of a whore she sounds like. Long story short, Sid ends up hanging himself. This scene is a major-league heavy hitter to me, because if something - like pregnancy, marriage, etc. - could have gone wrong, if one more block had fallen into place... I could very well have become Sid, or something along those lines. The reason I say this is because it's very similar; she was using me and the military - and that military cheque - to get her own selfish desires. Oh, BTW, this father she hated so much? Put her up with no rent after failing out of college, and gave her a job as a secretary for much more than the going wage. His big offence? He didn't kiss her ass like the mother did.

My mother and I - I was actively avoiding her at this point - finally got her into the car, but she kept getting out to cling to me. Not a regular "hug", either; more like a desperate cling, as if I was a cliff. She had lost her fucking mind. Finally, Mom got her on a plane. Thank GOD my aunt was back at the hotel, sick; Mary would have fucking killed her.

That's the last time I spoke to Amy for awhile. I went from Boot to Nuke School - I'll talk about this in post two - but basically, she sent me emails to get ahold of me. The first one? "What the fuck is taking you so long to message me? I'd APPRECIATE it if you emailed me." Really, it's like something was intentionally telling me this woman was fucked, as if there was a chance I could be brought back in. Then, another angry email came. Then, she begged me to message her; her mother was sick, and she needed somene to talk to..! Notice, she didn't ever get nice until SHE needed something. I didn't respond once.

This does have a happy ending... sort of. When I got home after bombing from Nuke school (again, in post two), I got a phone call from her at 9AM one morning. She found out from my friend Mike that I was coming back (Mike was never Mr. Common Sense), and decided to call me; she just wanted to "talk". I blew her off... but then she took a ticket from our past. I went to do games for Scott in Milford (I reffed during leave), and stopped off on the way home at Tommy K's video store. While checking out a game, I look behind me... and see my custom Rangers jersey behind me. She followed me from the rink, the psycho bitch. I forget what we talked about, but basically, I remember I got all my shit back, and that I was to "promise" her I'd still be her friend. I did, if only to make her go away. She didn't appreciate me breaking that promise, but I didn't appreciate Great Lakes, either.

And then I talked to Kristina, and heard a couple things that made my blood shiver. Kristina was 14 at the time, and being told these things by my 14 year old cousin was disturbing to say the least. First, she told me a story about taking her to see the Backstreet Boys. She called Kristina, and said hey, the Backstreet Boys are playing in the area! Wanna go? I got tickets! Kristina said yes, but was dubious; she hadn't heard a date announced, and she knew we just had a fight. Her mother checked it out, and hey, look at that... the Backstreet Boys weren't even touring! When Amy called back, she was told never to talk to Kristina again. Ouch.

Then Kristina told me something that... I don't know how she got hold of this information, but it's amazing, to this day, seven years later:

The bitch was poking holes in our rubbers.

Amy was literally poking holes through the wrappers into the condoms; she was hoping to get pregnant so that I'd have to stay put. I am eternally thankful that I am as lucky as I have been to this point, because otherwise... I SHUDDER to think. Really, it's that bad. It also explains why she was so high on unprotected sex at that time. That story has stuck with me to this day; when I have sex, even when wearing a condom, I very rarely cum without pulling out. I'm always afraid of a hole, despite the fact that my last full-on sexual partner - Jenn - isn't that type of person. And even though it's negligible - especially since I use spermicide-lubricated condoms - I figure that any sex brings the risk below 100% for pregnancy, and that's too low for some people, and hey... there's less chance of getting pregnant if I cum while pulled out, right? My fear still grips me today, though I think I MIGHT be getting over it.

It makes me appreciate what I have today. See, after my 2000 deployment, I started what can best be described as the Period of Debauchery. I fucked EVERYTHING. If you had a vagina and weren't fast enough to get away, chances are good if you met me, you fucked me from 2001 - 2004. It took awhile to lose that natural mentality, which would explain the one time I ever cheated in my life, when I cheated on Cammy with Vicki. But for awhile, I felt that even if I wanted a real relationship, that women weren't to be trusted. Combine that with peer pressure (apparently, if you don't get a LOT of pussy, you're gay; I didn't know someone could be less or more gay depending on how often they fucked) and the issue I'll talk about in post three, I had a perfect combination for problems: a mistrust of relationships, and heavy hormones. The good news is that I have enough experience to make a nun cum. The bad news is that I was really a piece of shit during that period of time; my relationship with Amy Kryzwick is a major reason as to why. And I have to tell you, after dealing with everything from Amy to Joleen (who I had a couple little flings with while I was in the service, but she was always good at tugging my heart around) to the hundreds of one-night stands, to Lisa to another Amy to some other heads who's names I can't even remember, I appreciate my more recent relationships more and more. For all that shit, I've had a few good relationships. Locally, Jenn was a good woman. Online, Liz and Cammy were outstanding women, and are still great friends. And of course... Aileen, who superlatives don't do justice for. If anything, Amy was a valuable learning experience for me, especially since she didn't REALLY hurt me; thanks to women like her, I can be the best man possible for a woman of the sterling character of Aileen.

One last annendum to this: While about to finish this post, I looked down... and realized that I was wearing my custom Rangers jersey. The same one she wore the last time I saw her.

Let's just say I have changed into something more comfortable.


( 9 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 28th, 2007 07:54 am (UTC)
Holy fuck. I actually read the WHOLE thing.

Oh, and crazy fucking girl there. Let's just say, I'm glad nothing turned out permanently bad.
Feb. 28th, 2007 11:30 am (UTC)
Relationships sound troublesome... For every good one, there's 2300046805694887 bad ones occurring right now. Or maybe that's just the United States.

But I suppose the "bad" can't turn "good" without trying, yes?
Feb. 28th, 2007 04:50 pm (UTC)
You've told me the short version of this story before, but, still ... damn. Kellie might have almost succeeded in killing my sorry ass, but at least she didn't, y'know, publicly humiliate me (in front of my family, at least) and do crazy shit like sabotage the condoms. I'm glad I got stuck with the cold, calculating evil instead of the psycho-clingy evil.
Feb. 28th, 2007 05:14 pm (UTC)
...HOLY SHIT. oO That's just... Holy CRAP.
(Deleted comment)
Mar. 2nd, 2007 04:58 am (UTC)
I think with Damien, the lure was less baby-making and more "this feels good"; Damien isn't a particularly smart man from what I've seen, so that would explain that. =D
Mar. 1st, 2007 02:55 am (UTC)
Ah, I remember you telling me about her.

Hey man, remember, I used to be scared of YOU. XD; So I'm sure I can learn to not be afraid of her um...over time... >.> Though her being over a foot taller doesn't help. XD; I can't promise I won't be intimidated, but I can at least try to refrain from calling her "Scary Aunt." >>;

And wow, I understand even better now why you said you'd prefer that I go on birth control if/when we ever start having sex [though I'm also grateful that you didn't DEMAND it, especially after an experience like that]. O_O You know I'd do it if not for some...extenuating circumstances and my trepidation when it comes to...you know. -_- And you know I'd never do that to you. ;_;

But it seems that the negative really accentuates the positive. I love you, darling. ♥
Mar. 2nd, 2007 05:07 am (UTC)
I'd really prefer ANYONE having sex with me be on birth control, but I would never tell a woman what to do with her body, and what she puts into it; really, I'm more thankful that someone's letting me put ME into their body. XD

And I'm aware of the circumstances. You know I'm understanding of everything, baby. And it'll be worth it~

I love you too. Your support is vital to me. <3
Mar. 4th, 2007 06:58 am (UTC)
Then Kristina told me something that... I don't know how she got hold of this information, but it's amazing, to this day, seven years later:

The bitch was poking holes in our rubbers.

Amy was literally poking holes through the wrappers into the condoms; she was hoping to get pregnant so that I'd have to stay put.

...that's SICK. >:(
Mar. 10th, 2007 09:29 pm (UTC)
This is perhaps the best written piece I have read in awhile.

I commend you for having the patience of a saint and it honestly makes me thank every deity under the sun that I'm not on the same boat.
( 9 comments — Leave a comment )


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