It was the summer of 2009 when I made a decision that changed my life. I was extremely stressed that summer. I was working full time, studying for the CPA exam, and I had just purchased my first house (believe me, this was a fixer-upper). I had spent so much time studying that I had completely neglected my yard, more like the weeds that were growing out of control where my yard should be. It was Thursday night and I made a promise to myself that I was going to work on my house and mow my weeds over the weekend. Then, later that night, my friend threw a wrench in that entire plan. My friends name is Mario and he called me up and asked if I wanted to go to Jackpot. For anyone that doesn’t know, Jackpot is in Nevada and it is located near the Idaho border which makes it an ideal place for people living in southern Idaho to go gamble and party. I told Mario “sorry but I’ll have to pass, I have way much to do this weekend.” Of course he wasn’t going to give up and actually came over to my house, while I was at work on Friday, and mowed my lawn. So we were off to Jackpot for a birthday party of one of Mario’s friends. Going to Jackpot that weekend was the best decision of my life. That was the night that I met my wife, Megan. She was in Jackpot for the same birthday party and had known Mario since college. I first saw Megan when Mario and I walked into the Casino. She was sitting at a blackjack table with a bunch of other friends. Needless to say she didn’t notice me until later in the night, but I guess the important part is that she did eventually notice me. After Megan and I got engaged nine months later we discovered that Mario, the person that introduced me to my wife, actually had a long history with Megan’s family. It turns out that Mario’s grandparents introduced Megan’s grandparents years earlier. Was it fate? I don’t know. What I do know is, I am about to celebrate by third anniversary with Megan and we have a beautiful baby girl. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn’t decide to go to Jackpot that weekend.
June of 2011. Senior year had just ended. I was graduating high school. Heading to community college, with a plan to transfer to a four year college. I was going to be a drama teacher in four to five years. Then I met him. He wasn't anything special. Just another Marine, but I found myself smiling more than ever when I met him. That smile didn't go away. It stayed plastered on my face for a week before I decided to take action. I asked him if he would like to go to the county fair with me and my family. He said he didn't have any plans for that day, though later I would find out that he skipped a party to come with me. That day, he spent time with my family. We joked, we laughed, we had a complete blast. Half way through the day, I knew that I was in love with this man. Within the month we were engaged, and by November of 2011, we were married. I knew what people thought when I announced my pregnancy the next month. They thought that I had a shotgun wedding because I got pregnant out of wedlock, but I didn't care. I could be half way to my bachelor's degree. I could have a job lined up as a teacher, and a promising future in the teaching field. However, after two and a half years of marriage, I have two beautiful children, a loving husband, and the best set of in laws anyone could ask for. And you know what? I couldn't be happier.
Everything changed for me that night in November of 2013. I sat in the living room, a laptop placed comfortably on my legs as I researched wedding venues. My fiance was nearby, playing the newest video game that filled our house with sounds of gunfire and screaming. We had just gotten engaged in August, in the middle of our summer road-trip to Florida. He had popped the question beneath a big oak tree in South Carolina. The ring was beautiful. He had tried hard to find something that was unique enough for him but still traditional enough to fit my style. It fit perfectly on my finger, but I often found myself spinning it around and around when I was deep in thought. I didn't tell him then, but as I sifted through all the internet had to offer on wedding information, the ball of nerves that had been building in my gut grew to an unbearable level. I picked up the phone and considered reaching out to my best friend Bernie. I had told him of my wedding woes mere weeks after the engagement, and he had encouraged me to do whatever makes me happy. It was that encouragement that I needed then, before I did something stupid. I met Bernie online in the summer of 2000, and we were immediately close. With him in Virginia and me in Illinois, we had tried time after time to meet up as kids, but life always got in the way. So in the day of technology, we relied on instant messenger, phone calls, and video chat to keep in touch. Any time I was feeling even the least bit poorly, he was the first and only person I wanted to reach out to. He knew me, inside and out, and I could always rely on him to raise my spirits. We had always had a special connection, one that no one could sever or manipulate. I trusted him with my deepest, darkest secrets and was never ashamed to be exactly who I am with him. There was a part of me that had loved him since the day we met. It was a part of me that no other man could touch -- a part that was saved just for him. So while I stared at my ring, spinning and spinning around my finger, it was Bernie that I thought of. I knew that my life would never be complete until I could look into his eyes and wrap my arms around his waist. We had spent so much time building our relationship, it seemed like a crime never to meet. But I feared that seeing him now would only hurt me -- that my love for him would consume my heart and make all else unimportant. Could I meet Bernie now and still be able to go home to my fiance? Probably not, I decided. But on the other hand... Could I live with myself if I never gave Bernie a chance? I had never been one to keep secrets from Bernie. So the moment the thought even crossed into my mind, my fingers were typing. It was the second time I had expressed such intense feelings for him. The first attempt hadn't gone so well, and our relationship had suffered greatly afterward. The rejection was fresh in my mind as I typed, and it only succeeded in making me more nervous. I stared at the message for a long time, debating my words and questioning my intentions, all while hiding the screen in case my fiance decided to look over at that very moment. I felt guilty, of course, saying such romantic words to a man who wasn't my fiance. I knew it would crush him should he ever find out. But another part of me screamed, "Yes! This is right!" I pressed send before my nerves won out then hid my phone, screen down and set to silent mode, until I was brave enough to face his response. I waited. For what felt like an eternity, I waited, though I'm sure it had only been five minutes. Just when I thought I might burst with anticipation, the fear all but boiling over inside me, I picked up my phone and read his response. Three months later, I was back inside the house I had once shared with my fiance. I went from room to room, checking for anything I might have left behind. I wasn't sad -- not really. I knew I would miss the house, my friends, and my family. But I also knew that my life was just beginning, and I still had so many memories to make. When I finally stepped outside and locked the door behind me one final time, I felt like I was closing the door to an old chapter of my life. When I got behind the wheel of my car, my entire life packed into the trunk, I knew the next chapter was going to be a long and beautiful one. I took Bernie's hand in mine, and we drove to Virginia together. I was finally home.
I got divorced after 5 years of marriage. And 2+years later have learned that everything good in life went down hill. The bonus slap in the face: She cheated and doesn't have to face the consequences for her actions. There is no way to the good days again, seems her infidelity has cursed me from finding another.
Feb. 2010: I found out I was pregnant at the age of nineteen, after breaking off my engagement to an abusive prick. At the first sono I was told I was having twins (they looked to be playing jump rope with their umbilical cords lol) and fell in love with my daughters (unbeknownst to me at the time). A few weeks later I was told that I would probably lose one if not both of my daughters due to my smaller daughter not growing as fast. I had only had six weeks to decided if I should be merciful and let the doctors put her to sleep so she wouldn't starve to death when her umbilical cord stopped working and run the risk of the lash-back killing/severely damaging my other daughter as the smaller daughter donated nutrients to her twin, or if I should decide to wait until her umbilical cord fails her and then have an emergency c-section, also running the risk of losing not just one but both girls. After the six weeks had passed with many dr. visits and tracking my daughters' growth I made my decision at 21 weeks into 40 weeks of my pregnancy. Eight weeks later I had an emergency c-section. Six years later, I look at the faces of my sweet Phoenix and Astrid and I am in awe still over the fact that they made it.
In the summer of 1985, I was broke, a starving actor in Vancouver, BC. I had two choices, give up acting and get a job or find another way to get an income. The only thing I could think of that wouldn't keep me from going out for auditions (I had a great agent who sent me out for a lot of stuff; it wasn't his fault I was shit at auditioning) was student loans. So I applied at Emily Carr College of Art and Design to study art and also at Simon Fraser University to study computer science. I couldn't make up my mind which I'd rather do if push came to shove and my acting career tanked. And I was accepted at both (although at Simon Fraser there was a proviso that I make up grade eleven math during my first year. Being lazy about the whole education thing (remember, I was an actor at heart ATT) I said, screw the math, I'm going to art school. Besides, it was walking distance to Emily Carr and that was a consideration since I had no idea how much student loan money they'd give me and I might not be able to afford the bus pass I'd need to get all way out to SFU. And on my third day in art school, across a crowded hallway, I saw the woman now sitting in the living room. My first thought was, who the hell is that and why do I have the feeling I know her? And her first thought? I thought he'd be taller.
It was actually several choices, one accumulating after another, which changed my life. At each of these, I could have gone down a different path, arrived somewhere else. And each of them would have been completely good. But different, yeah. The first of these choices I made in June 2005. I was an unhappy secretary - because I wasn't good at the job, never had been, and didn't want to be either but didn't know what to do instead - with an ex I still was friends with - and who I loved still. It felt like I was just going through each day, with no new ones to come up. So there we were one evening, my ex and I, hanging out in his flat. He was enrolled in university with a state stipend and was nagging me - as usual - that I should apply too. But there was no subject I was truly interested in, and I was exaggerated when he started again. "If you absolutely had to, which subject would you study?" I think I rolled my eyes. "Well, maybe Meteorology." His mobile rang. He took it up and went outside for a lengthy phone call to one of his friends. I was bored. His call took a long time. I stood up, went to his computer (which was turned on) and, because the recent conversation was still fresh in my mind - I did say that I was bored, yes? - I typed in 'university meteorology'. To look at the list of subjects I would have to take. The search came up and I selected the big university in our town. Huh? It said 'Meteorology and Geophysics'. What the heck was 'Geophysics'? I scrolled down. Came to the list of subjects for this strange term I'd never heard of before. Read of the courses one had to take. My ex came back. "What are you looking at?" I turned to him. "Robert, I am quitting my job and in October I will start university." And I did. And I never, for one moment, doubted the rightness of my choice. My life since then has been a whole, long chain of surprises. Now I am living in a different country (my fourth actually, after leaving my home town when university was finished). Speaking - and writing - another language. Having seen so many different corners of the globe that it sometimes feels like I am living a dream. I am not the secretary any longer. My ex? We came together again, not long after this memorable evening, and stayed together till we each chose differently - but that entailed another choice. I still love him, in a sense, but I know that we are not right for one another. But I do not regret. Never will.
