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I believe I may have mentioned in passing the reason for the demise of my first marriage: Bigamy.
I’ve never really given the details so I figure now would be as good a time as any. I met my first husband, I’ll call him Tony (because that’s his name – forget protecting the guilty) at a club in 1987. He appeared to be the only non-Black person in a predominantly Black nightclub so he stood out. Not to mention that he was 6’4” and could dance his behind off. Once I spotted him I literally could not take my eyes off him. He’s Puerto Rican with dark wavy hair and a thick moustache and he swaggered when he walked. I was hooked.
I asked my girlfriend V who he was and she said he was a friend of a friend. I made her get me an introduction and I would take it from there. What can I say ya’ll? I was 23 and fast as hell. I’m happy to say I am no longer that aggressive. Anyway, after the club closed everyone trekked down to the 24-hour store to pick up a 2-piece and see if any last minute hookups could be made. Tony came over to my car and we talked for a few minutes and exchanged numbers. He called about four days later and made a date for the following weekend.
I’m a little fuzzy on the details because this was so very long ago. I do remember that once we became ~intimate~ he was spending nights at my apartment on a regular basis. I made it a habit of unplugging my phone when I had male company. Well, one morning after an evening together, there was a knock at my door bright and early. I looked out my window and to my surprise it was my mother! Now, I was grown and living on my own but I still didn’t want my mother knowing that I let men spend the night with me. I knew that she must have tried to call but couldn’t get through because I had the phone unplugged. I let her in and introduced her to Tony. Talk about awkward moments! She was trying to reach me because my grandmother had died and she was on her way to New Jersey and she wanted to let me know. I immediately got myself together and told her that I would go with her. Mom made a few phone calls while she waited for me to pack and Tony sat there looking crazy not knowing what to do. Finally, I told him that I would call him when I got back and I hit the road with my mom.
One detail that I do remember about Tony was that while my family was in New Jersey for my grandmother’s funeral he sent flowers. I had no idea how he knew where to send them. He later said that he overhead my mom on the phone giving the information to someone else and he made a note of it.
That is probably the only positive thing that I will say about him for the rest of this post.
Tony was a pathological liar. He lied about everything: his name (told me it was Antonio), his age (told me he was a year older than he was), father (told me that he was dead) and most importantly his marital status (he told me he was divorced).
Very early in our relationship he told me straight out, “I can never marry you.”
My reply: “Who asked you?”
His response, “I was just saying … you know because you’re not Catholic.”
My reply, “Again, who asked you?”
Well time passes and we get closer and he’s getting in good with my family and I’ve met his family. All is good in the hood. Our relationship isn’t perfect but it works. After more than a year he starts dropping hints about us spending our lives together and all that. I’m young, dumb and in love so I’m going along with the okey-doke and when he slipped a ring on my finger and asked for my hand I accepted.
I’m embarrassed to say how many red flags I ignored during our engagement:
--He lied on our marriage license saying that he had no previous marriages.
--When visiting his family his sister said, “How can you get married when you and D aren’t divorced?” Of course, he shut her up real quick by saying that they had gotten divorced a long time ago.
--My mom told me that if I didn’t want to go through with the wedding that I could back out (Mama always knows).
Finally, something told me to ask him to produce a divorce decree. He was in the military so they must have had a copy in his personnel file, right? That’s what I thought. He kept putting me off and giving me these excuses as to why he didn’t have one. Fine. I gave him an ultimatum: show me the divorce decree or we’re through. A week later, I picked him up from work and as I’m driving he hands me a form, which said “Divorce Decree” (or something like that) across the top. I’m driving and reading at the same time, so needless to say I didn’t get a real good look at what I was looking at. After a few minutes, he snatches it out of my hand and says, “Are you happy now?” He then proceeds to crumble up the piece of paper and throws it out the window!
All I can say is, I must have really been dumb and desperate and wanting to get married because I moved forward with our plans and we walked down the aisle on September 16, 1989. None of his family was present. Maybe I didn’t want to go through the humiliation of calling off the wedding. Maybe I really wanted to believe him. I don’t know what the hell my problem was. Little did I know, my problems were only just beginning.
For those of you that know anything about the military, once we were married I was supposed to receive a military identification card. I didn’t know how much time had to pass before I could get one so I left it up to him to take care of.
October 1989 came and went and I still don’t have an ID. I’ve changed my name on my license, my checks and my SSN card and I’m still waiting for my ID. Well, in November I got pregnant so now I’m really getting antsy because I need the ID for my doctor’s appointments, etc. and he keeps blowing me off about getting the ID. It’s December now and still nothing. It’s January 1990 and I have had enough. Once again I give him an ultimatum: either take me to get my ID or I’m going to the Base my damn self to get it!
Here is where he comes clean. There’s a problem, he says. Um … something happened with my divorce from D … um … we’re still married.
What the hell?
I knew he was a liar and he had been lying to me since 1987 but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost it. I completely lost it. There was no way in the world that he could convince me that he actually THOUGHT he was divorced when he wasn’t. You don’t make mistakes like that. What motivates a person to do something like that? I never pressed him to get married. I never even brought it up. I can look back at it now and be very unemotional but there was a time when my pressure would go up every time I thought about that POS. I promptly kicked his ass out of the house.
His response: “What about the baby?”
My reply: “What about the baby?” with hands on hips and neck rolling.
February 1990 I was granted an annullment and in July 1990 my son was born. Tony made a few attempts to come back into our lives but I couldn’t get past what happened. Soon those attempts stopped and neither me nor my son have seen or heard from him in more than fourteen years.
Tony obviously changed my life. Since it all happened while I was pregnant I chose to focus on my pregnancy and I buried that pain way down deep and never dealt with it. I never grieved that relationship. I carried that hurt around for many years. Unfortunately, I carried it right into my second marriage. It was those unresolved issues that ultimately led to the failure of my second marriage. As a result I can’t say that I really trust anyone. Which sucks because I know that I'm not supposed to allow my past to dictate my present or future. I'm getting better.
The good news is I recently let go of the feeling that I could actually kill his ass.
What is meant to be will be
