The Bard and Jester

Welcome Readers! Here you will find some real life experiences and musings that I'd like to share with you. So, come on in, if you have the time and I'll do my best to be entertaining... Please click on my sponsors' links!!! Established March 12, 2005.

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Location: New York, United States

I can be a clown, a poet, a fool, a romantic, a diplomat, a beast...it all depends upon the timing and circumstance.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

An Ex-nun, A Mafioso and My First Love

I fell in love, real love, for the very first time when I was 17.
Her name was Claire. She was blonde, blue-eyed and the adopted daughter of a Mafioso and his wife, a crazy ex-nun who had left the convent to marry a gangster. They couldn't have kids, so poor Claire, an abandoned baby, was taken into their life.

I knew about Claire's father before getting involved with her. I had met her while working together at Haagan-Dazs. When she first started, the shop's owner had taken the employees aside and advised us that the new girl's father was in the mob. Don't ask me why the owner had volunteered this information; we all could've done without it.

Back then, I was super-shy and absolutely incompetent when it came to dating. Hell, I couldn't even make the first move! But with Claire, I didn't need to; she did it all and we fell deeply in love.

Now, some of you Sopranos fans may be wondering if it was anything like what you see on the show.

It was...and it wasn't.

I mean, a lot of it was like your almost-perfect average high school romance; Claire was there for my first car, we gave each other our virginity, we went to the prom together, spent hours talking on the phone, etc.

But some of it was indeed like the Sopranos...especially the characters I encountered.

They had a social club (which looked something like the back office of the Bada-Bing) with a pool table, with pictures on the wall of Frank Sinatra and James Cagney in his famous ganster roles.

There was a fellow actually called Bugsy...a real fat man with a prosethetic leg. The local legend was that Bugsy could eat so much that, once, he had to be asked to leave an all-you-can-eat-buffet!

Then there was the time Claire and I and some of her girlfriends decided to try out a new club specifically for kids under 21. There was no alcohol served there, of course, but there was a DJ and a dance floor and that was all we needed. Oddly, just before we left Claire's house to go to this club, her mother warned that if we got into any trouble there was a bar just down the block from there that was "connected". She told Claire who to ask for and what to say.

Sure enough, trouble found us at the club. I guess it was because I was a guy with four lovely girls and I could dance pretty good and drew a lot of attention and some punks decided they just didn't like me. They cornered me and their leader tried to get me to go into the men's room with them (thus, out of sight) and I refused. Claire got in between us and I tried to get her out of the way...she didn't understand...I had to be able to see their hands (more of my dad's lessons). I wound up arguing more with her than with the leader of the punks. Just as I shoved Claire aside, the leader punched me in the face. Having studied martial arts most of my life, plus nearly having been beaten to death by a gang a couple of years before, I learned to take a pretty good beating...so I just laughed at the blow. I didn't hit leader back because I knew that the bouncers--who were quite friendly with the trouble-making punks--were looking for an excuse to throw me outside--where the rest of the gang was hanging out.

Claire decided to go to that bar her mom had told her about to get help from "the family", leaving me all alone in the club in a John Wayne situation. Along the way, Claire realized that she had been cut and was bleeding from her hand. She hadn't felt anything and so we later figured that one of the punks must've went to cut me with a razor and she got in the way.

She soon returned with some mean-looking wiseguys and I pointed out the trouble makers. Claire pointed to the leader and said, "He's the one that cut me."

One of the wiseguys told us to go to their bar and wait. We did. Eventually, we heard sirens and soon an ambulance pulled up to the club. They must've hurt the leader pretty bad.

A week or so later, I saw some of those punks at a high school dance. When they saw me, they stayed clear. That was a pretty good feeling.

Anyway, eventually, Claire's mother came to dislike me because I wanted to be writer and she felt that, should Claire and I marry, her daughter would be in the poor house. Her mother began to monitor our phone calls and limit our dating. She even refused to let Claire attend my graduation because she caught Claire smoking cigarettes. And then, one Saturday morning, Claire called to say that we couldn't see each other anymore because her mother was furious. She had found a book of Claire's matches and, because it had advertised a motel, the mother assumed that we had gone there to have sex.

Truth was, we had gone to a motel on Prom night.

I panicked. Not only was I losing Claire, but I was most likely a dead man. So, I got into my car and raced around Brooklyn, going to all the stores where Claire bought her cigarettes and asking for a book of matches.

Finally, I found the one with the motel advertised on it.

And you know where that goddamn motel was? Las Vegas, Nevada...all the way across the country from us and neither of us had ever been there! I quickly called Claire and asked her to have her mother look closely at the motel's address on the matchbook. Claire did. Her mother, now feeling quite foolish, allowed us to resume dating.

But it was only a matter of time for Claire and I. We had a big fight one night and the mother used that as an excuse to forbid me from seeing Claire, "because of the pain I had put her daughter through."

But I was a young fool madly in love and I wouldn't give up. Not even when her parents made death-threats against me. Finally, Claire told me she didn't want to see me ever again--probably to save my life.

And that just broke my heart. My first real broken heart.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Colleen said...

I never liked her anyway! :P

March 13, 2005 8:40 AM  

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