STRANGEST OFFER YET

I mentioned Jack in my last post. He was almost heroic or at least romantic in his quickness to come to my aid and to protect me. But as I told Grayquill, there was a separate, strange story of Jack.

I almost hesitate to tell this story for it really confirms my pitiful ability to pick a guy. In fact, too bad I wasn't able to blog years ago for I am really seeing a pattern here. Kind of late but answers are always welcome even if they are tardy.

Jack had an office in the same building where I worked. He was an architect, partnered with one of the premier architects in Florida at the time. He was George Clooney handsome, Cary Grant smooth and almost twice my age. I was 19 and he was 36.

I probably ought to state here that age 19 in the late 50's carried all the worldliness of a 12 year old today. We just hadn't been exposed to much. Movies were tame by today's standards, profanity still made us blush, and "Leave it to Beaver" didn't broaden our horizons much. Romance was heavy necking at a drive in movie with a boy who was finally outgrowing his acne. It was a simpler time.

Jack started courting me shortly after I started to work at the answering service. My room mate who was engaged to her convict and worked in the same office with me, was green with envy. He was, except for age, a total catch. He took my breath away.

Jack showed me a whole new aspect of dating. Restaurants on the ocean with dim lighting and piano bars, romantic boat rides in the moonlight, dancing to live bands in far off cities, were all new to me. Just about all my money went for clothes for I really had no wardrobe for this type of date. I was more geared in my closet for movies, pizzas or rollerskating.

I didn't drink on dates at that time of course, but we went places where drinking was part of the entertainment. Rock and Roll took a back seat to mellow, slow dancing tunes. When not swaying to the music, we talked long and easily about subjects with depth. He actually seemed to care what I thought and totally listened. I adored this amazing man. Wow, I was in an adult relationship.

Well almost adult. The odd thing is that he was very non-aggressive romantically. We kissed and cuddled but that was all. Truthfully, I was feeling a bit odd and wondered if there were something wrong with me that he didn't at least "try".

We had been going together for several months when he hit me with the strangest offer I have ever had. Yes, even stranger than my pimp wannabe's offer. We were at his lovely home, it was a cold Florida evening and there was a fire in the fireplace. And yes, there really was an honest to God bear skin rug that we were cuddling on. The guy knew how to set a scene.

The mood was perfect when he asked me to marry him. That would have made a nice romantic story but what came next completely floored me. Before I could answer, the rest of his proposition burst the beginnings of a grand and glorious bubble.

Jack became almost business like. I would have to be examined by a doctor to be certain there were no physical problems with me becoming pregnant. He calmly stated he would take me to Illinois to be married and to live, where his family was socially prominent. His father was prominent in politics and his family was quite wealthy.

Then if I would give him a child within a year, grant him equal custody, he would then divorce me, making sure our child and I were well provided for. He would introduce me to the cream of Illinois society and he was sure I could find a suitable husband rather quickly. He wanted an heir and I guess my genes suited him.

I thought he was kidding but he wasn't. He was virtually looking for a brood mare with similar values and reasonable intelligence, though my convict episode might have dampened his zeal a bit. That proposition pretty much killed my romantic dreams about him. However I would be lying if I told you that I didn't consider it for more than a moment.

I tried to convince myself that perhaps once we were married, that silly notion of his would pass and we could be a normal married couple. I would be able to change his mind, oh yeah. That was purely unworldly, naive, 19 year old thinking. Even I eventually saw the holes in that premise.
He did like me and saw me as a suitable egg donor but he did not love me.

When he would not abandon his conditions, we did break up. I just could not agree to the bizarre request. I wanted more than temporary.

Five months after we broke up, he was killed in a single car accident. He had been drinking and hit a bridge abutment. His lady passenger, perhaps a new recruit, survived. I couldn't help but mourn. He was my first almost grown up love, strange though it was.

Today, I realize he was possibly gay and needed a child to satisfy his father. This was decades before "Will and Grace." I had no clue. Perhaps there was another reason.

What do you think his motive was ??