A Short Story, A True Story, A Love Story

A Short Story

A True Story

A Love Story

I fell in love the minute I laid eyes on her in a seedy part of town. Handing over the requested cash right there on the spot, I took her home to my apartment in Redondo Beach. Oh, how many love stories have started off exactly that same way…

We met back in ’95; I remember the day as if it were yesterday. I was young, she even younger. Although I was on the rebound from the painful loss of my first love, this new situation unexpectedly felt right, even destined. I covered her backside which was too exposed to public view, for my tastes. She wore it with pride as we literally rode off into the California sunset.

For me it was a match made in Heaven. For her, I’m not so sure. But this is what I wanted, and how I wanted it. A man has needs, you know. Some will judge me, of course, gently suggesting that perhaps there was another option, another way. Others will be more blunt. No matter. This is my life, my money, and I can spend them any way I see fit, the critics be damned. What do they know anyway? Everyone has a vice, no one is perfect. He without sin can cast the very first stone.

Our relationship endured far longer, and in more surprising ways, than I ever expected all those years ago in the California sunshine. When I moved to Minnesota, some were surprised to see that she came along too. It had only been a year since we’d met, but the bond was already strong-at least for me, that is. Maintaining this relationship continued to cost me some dough, but I never regretted spending one single cent.

After a few years back in the Midwest, things got a bit complicated. First I had a spouse, and soon after that a baby, then another child two years later. There just wasn’t room for all of it, and something had to give.  So, she went to live with my father who paid handsomely for her in the Spring of ‘02.

Oh, the naysayers will snicker, saying behind our backs that the apple truly falls not far from its tree. “He’s just like his old man,” they’ll say.  Or, perhaps they’ll point out that dad’s decision was selfish, for he was already married, and my mom wanted no part of this. It’s a funny thing about long-term relationships, however. You’d be surprised what you’re willing to put up with after all those years with someone. And so “she” did. Put up with it. Both her and my mother.

I admired her from afar after that, whenever I caught a glimpse of her and dad out together, just driving around town. Sure, I was jealous. But it didn’t prevent me from finding a replacement, a newer model.  In all honesty, I must confess that I never met her equal yet still progressed through a series of déjà vu encounters that all began in euphoric, but temporary bliss. It’s only human nature to tire of the one you’re with after a while, and yearn for something exciting, fresh, and different.

Ultimately, that cycle itself bored me, and I once again found myself thinking about her, yearning to be together yet again.  I’m sure it sounds crazy, but only if you have no sense of romance. My story is the story of countless men across the ages, though most of theirs end sadly, never reuniting with their first true love, paid for with hard-earned money.

My ending? Happiness. You see, my father himself soon tired of her as well, opting for something exciting, fresh, and different, just like all the others. And so he gave her to me-free of charge-this past November, almost twenty years to the day since we first met, half a continent away within reach of the Pacific Ocean. We now spend every day together, much to the chagrin of my spouse and my children. They'll just have to get used to it. 

This time our ending will be different. I won’t let her go, until she says it’s time, or until time itself tells us that the end is near.  After that, I’ll have nothing more than my memories of that sleek, powerful figure and a single picture of us together that I’ve included below. Happy Valentine’s Day.

1993 Ford Ranger XLT 4x4 Supercab

#reunited