I met my husband on the Blue Line around 8am on June 19, 1997. By 3pm we were sitting, alone, in the closed dining room of The Metropolitan Club on the 67th floor of the Sears Tower (now called The Willis Tower) in downtown Chicago looking at Lake Michigan. He ordered a glass of wine and I ordered, "A scotch on the rocks and a little umbrella for my new boyfriend's cute little cocktail." That made our waiter snicker as he walked away, so I continued, in my best hussy voice, "Sooo, what do you want me to know about you -- before we take our clothes off?"
I didn't really say the "take our clothes off" part. It was implied, though.
He told me that the most important thing that I could know about him was that he was a good dad and he showed me a picture of his three beautiful little kids.
Talk about a mood killer.
But somehow our pheromones persevered and we ended up at Frontera Grill for dinner and the rest of that night, as they say, is just history (and way inappropriate for this kind of blog.)
My husband told a portion of that story to our oldest son - my stepson, Tommy, who is home from college for spring break. They were having a green-beer-induced-heart-to-heart conversation about life. He said, "Tommy, when I met Denise she asked me what I wanted her to know about me and I told her that I was a good Dad. Today, 13 years later, I finally realize that I probably was wrong. I wasn't a good Dad. A good Dad would have made sure that your Mother was happy. But she was so sad that she didn't feel like she had any options but to divorce me. I am so sad that you had to deal with the divorce."
Tommy will turn 22 years old on June 4. He is charming and fit and handsome and got the highest score on his final in his Chemistry class at the Technische Universität Berlin last semester but this is still a topic of conversation. Don't get me wrong, it's not like the kid is walking around with a divorce limp. He lives with his lovely girlfriend of four years and they seem to have a good relationship. He has a mature relationship with money, he has friends all over the world and he is on a rugby team. I couldn't wish a more interesting and dignified existence for a young man.
I'm just saying that kids that have to deal with divorce, no matter how "great" you think your divorce is, are inexorably altered.
My husband told me about his late night confession and how sad they both were at the time. I wanted to make them smile but I didn't want to impose myself onto their private conversation. So I threw together a bunch of photographs into a little picture show (watch the video below - Tommy is the older boy with dark hair at the very end of the video). I showed the video to my husband. He loved it. Then I wrote a little love note to Tommy and posted it on his facebook page.
"Tommy! I came across these photographs from last summer and had to share them with you. Everyone looks so happy! We can't wait for next summer!"
I thought that my message was a subtle way of reminding him of the good times and assuring him that there would be more good times in the future.When Tommy stopped by today his Dad insisted that he sit down and watch the video. Apparently he had not seen that I had already posted the video to his facebook page. After he watched it he said, "Are you going to put that on facebook?! Don't tag me! Fuck My Life!"
Then he left.
I took the video off of facebook immediately and since Tommy will never, ever look at this blog, I'm completely comfortable sharing it with y'all. My husband talked to him later that day and let him know that, "the word Fuck, which has pretty much always been a word that we frown upon, is equally unacceptable when accompanied by the words My Life." Tommy came back to our house and apologized to me. He explained that pictures posted to facebook, even after being deleted, are still accessible by companies. He was implying that the pictures in this video might compromise his future employment opportunities. I thought to myself, "The idea that these family photos would compromise you in any way is just bullshit."
He was reading my mind.
Silence.
Finally he said, "I guess what I was really saying when I swore at you was that I Hate My Life Because I Look DRRRR," and then he stuck out his big white perfect front teeth and slapped his hands against his chest like a seal. It was kind of funny and we both kind of fake laughed.
Tommy was telling the truth. The look on his face said that he was authentically embarrassed by those photos. This beautiful, strong, funny young man, who loves my mashed potatoes, thinks that he looks DRRRR.
If you have watched the video you know that there isn't an ounce of truth in that perspective. But what is true is that my relationship with my 22 year old kid is extra, extra complicated because of a divorce that happened years ago. Not every experience is burdened with the divorce baggage but the cloud is always lurking. Divorce leaves us, especially the kids, questioning ourselves where there is no question.
Right now things are calm. Everyone, including Tommy, is out in the drive-way shooting hoops. I'm getting dinner ready while typing this post about my flirty little cocktail date with his Dad at The Metropolitan Club 13 years ago. At this moment it doesn't seem very sexy. Thinking about the picture of those three pretty little kids laying on the table next to my scotch is just creepy.
I wish I were making mashed potatoes.
