Lesson 3 - Part One

All right, after some soul-searching I’ve decided to confess…



December of 1967, while dating someone—on a date—I found myself in the back seat of a very small car with another guy.  (Don’t judge me yet.  First, Ken and I were better friends than a couple AND he’d introduced me to Russell.  And Ken was supposed to be in that back seat with us—I think he got side-tracked by one of the seniors inside the nursing home we’d just sung Christmas carols in.)  Russell planted a big kiss on me—and that was that!  At that moment I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with this guy.  You really can fall in love that quickly. 

We started dating in February.  We were inseparable for the next two and a half years.  And then, the night before I was leaving for college, he broke up with me and broke my heart.  I went away to school still sure that I was going to marry him.  I dated a few people freshman year of college—but there was nothing there.  I was still in love with him and knew he was going return—penitent and contrite.

October of sophomore year he did.  And we basically picked up where we’d left off.  Were there little doubts nibbling at the hem of my soul—oh yes.  Did I listen to them—on no!

We married the October after I graduated from college.  Now, the fact that our marriage coincided with my sudden, constant indigestion—I’m talking a bottle of antacids a week habit—should have given me a clue, right?  Nope. 

Twenty-six years later, I was floating in my friends pool in Florida when I realized that Russell was a selfish, self-centered man, impressed by his own press releases and convinced of his own importance.  He had morphed into this person that had no morals, honor or integrity—a person that I didn’t even know.  What I did know was that I needed to get out…Do not pass ‘go’…do not collect $200!  I called my brother for his lawyer friend’s number and called—still in the pool—to make an appointment for as soon as I got back home to Connecticut.