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Chris was born in 1960 as a result of an unplanned (and unwanted) pregnancy. He often doubted that he would have ever existed if abortion had been legal at the time. He sometimes thought that may have been better. Sometimes not. It depended on the day.
He has two half-brothers who are 10 and 12 years older than he is, and a sister who had preceded him by five years. The brothers had minimal contact with him growing up. He didn’t blame them. What teenage boy wants to hang out with a kid who is between two and seven years old when your adolescent hormones are drawing your attention elsewhere?
When Chris’s parents would have his sister babysit him, she would find creative ways to make him cry and/or scream in pain to alleviate her boredom. When he was seven years old, Chris complained to his parents with evidence of what had transpired. His sister said Chris had fallen, and he was only trying to get her in trouble. Chris got his ass beaten for lying to his parents about his sister, and a reward of additional torture the next time his sister was babysitting. His sister’s pain threshold experiments came to a conclusion on the day Chris broke her arm with a wooden cutting board after she had pierced his thigh with a hat pin while he was eating breakfast when he was nine years old. It took a couple of days for him to recover from the beating for that incident. He still called it a win.
Chris had also served a twelve-year sentence in a little corner of hell called Catholic School. Delving into just some of the shit that had taken place during his sentence would take multiple volumes and the exhuming of memories that are much better left buried. Chris was fortunate not to have had to suffer any sexual abuse while serving his sentence. It was all physical and mental. Others weren’t so lucky.
The nurturing Chris was exposed to during his formative years was instrumental in his becoming very introverted with significant trust issues (he would probably have to think it over before grabbing a rope that was dropped down to him while hanging off a cliff).
Chris also had a lot of frustration from constantly being on the receiving end of negative reinforcement. But things started turning, if not up, at least in a direction other than down, the day he met Mr. Harry and his dog Dozer.
Chris had always liked animals when he was growing up. He didn’t know why, he just did. They filled gaps. He especially liked dogs. A neighbor of his (Mr. Harry) had a dog named Dozer. A Rottweiler/Bull Mastiff /Caucasian Ovcharka mix that everyone seemed to be terrified of, mostly because of his size and naturally ferocious looking expression. Having a head the size of a black bear and fangs to match may also have been a contributing factor. Dozer was nine months old the last time Mr. Harry had him weighed, and he was a few pounds north of 200. Harry has always liked big dogs.
Dozer’s favorite toy was a three-quarter ton truck tire that he would throw around the yard like a pillow. It weighed more than Chris did at the time they first met. Chris knew that Dozer wasn’t vicious, he just didn’t like to be teased. And he wasn’t shy about letting people know it.
When Chris was seven, he and Dozer were eye to eye when they both stood up. I know this because that is how old Chris was when he first walked into Dozer’s yard and did just that. Looking back, that was pretty stupid. Where everyone else saw Cujo on steroids, Chris saw a “REALLY BIG DOG” that he just had to get to know.
The naivete of youth. Sometimes you get lucky.
That was also the first day Chris met Mr. Harry, who’s first words to Chris were, “You got balls kid!” while Chris was standing in front of Harry’s dog, resting his forehead on Dozer’s, and scratching his incredibly massive neck. I don’t think Chris knew what having balls meant at that time. His hadn’t dropped yet, so. . .
Mr. Harry was a fitness nut, in a good way. Harry had converted his basement to a home gym, and he was an avid runner, cyclist and swimmer. When he showed Chris around his gym, Chris of course started asking questions about the equipment. Harry’s answer was to demonstrate the equipment’s use, then to let Chris mimic what he had been shown. Chris soon discovered he enjoyed working out, (playing with weights is what he called it then) and Mr. Harry brought Chris along at a glacial pace for the first few years to make sure he developed good form and a proper foundation before introducing him to more rigorous forms of exercise (or play as Chris called it at the time).
Harry was also a retired hand to hand combat instructor for the army, and he incorporated those techniques into Chris’s workout routines, along with the discipline required for the responsibility of having those skills. Harry made sure Chris wouldn’t become a bully. It was a pretty easy lesson to learn. Having been bullied in the past, Chris didn’t have much stomach for it. He didn’t like witnessing it either.
Chris casino şirketleri didn’t realize it at first, but the exercise was releasing a lot of the mental stress that he had built up, which just made him want to do more. Exercise became his physical and emotional outlet.
I don’t know how old Mr. Harry was. I know he was a widower who never remarried, and he and Dozer may have saved Chris’s life.
Puberty hit Chris rather early, somewhere in his eleventh year. By the time he was twelve, he was over 5’10” tall thanks to puberty. He was also 165 pounds and could easily pass for 16-17 thanks to puberty and Mr. Harry. By midway through eighth grade, Chris had reached his adult height of 6’1 ½” and weighed 180 pounds. By the time he graduated high school Chris was 230 pounds with a 31-inch waist. He had wavy dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and was well above average from the neck up.
Sounds pretty good right? All the ingredients for a great time with the ladies from pre-high school on. The thing about ingredients, you can have warehouse full of them, but if you don’t know you have them, they’re not worth shit.
Chris didn’t see the shredded body, handsome face or dark, naturally wavy hair that others saw when he looked into a mirror. What Chris saw, was a body with a myriad of flaws that he would cover with baggy clothes, a face with too much nose over too small of a mouth, small brown beady eyes and hair that just refused to cooperate. Add in being introverted with trust issues and it all added up to graduating high school as a virgin. A virgin who had not been on a date, or ever kissed a girl or even held a girl’s hand. A veritable cherry tree.
Spending as much time as he has with Mr. Harry, Chris over time became less introverted around other men, he learned cut up with the best of them. He also developed a reputation for occasionally doing some crazy shit right out of the blue when he was growing up. Things like stealing a cop car when he was 15 and driving it into a creek because the cop it belonged to had a habit of fucking with Chris (and others) just because he could. That’s what he gets for leaving the car running when he stopped into the 7-11 for a coffee.
It was no coincidence that Chris’s more extreme behavior was often a knee jerk reaction to some form of bullying. That was one of the few things that could cause him to step out of his normally calm and unobtrusive demeanor.
As he grew up, thanks to Mr. Harry’s influence, Chris slowly began to shrug off a lot of the mental and emotional baggage he had been carrying around. Unfortunately, because Harry choose not to see other women after his wife had died, Chris was never afforded the opportunity to acquire a comfort level with women while spending time with Harry. And as puberty progressed, and his hormonal changes continued, Chris became even less comfortable around them. He knew he liked them. He liked them a lot. But his brain just seemed to shut down whenever he was in their presence. Below is an example of a recuring theme during his adolescent years.
Chris was 13 years old and on vacation with parents (and sister) in Chincoteague Virginia for the annual July Pony Penning. He liked animals. Horses are animals, so he was good with the trip. Back then, Chincoteague defined small town. No fast-food joints, one movie theater, a four-man two car police department, no hospital on the island. . . you get the idea. What you did see were a lot of people on horseback during the Assateague pony round-up prior to the penning. Some of the tourists were regulars that had vacation homes on the island with facilities to keep their horses. Plus, a lot of locals owned horses. I would estimate around 10-15 percent of the tourist/local population had a horse or were on horseback while he was there that July. The island is only seven miles long and two miles wide at its widest. There were plenty of places to tie your horse off, and even during the height of tourist season, car traffic was light, and everyone seemed to be friendly. Horseback was a convenient mode of transportation. And more fun than a car.
Chris had just gotten out of the family station wagon one afternoon so his parents could check out a roadside hand carved decoy shop. Chris looked up and saw a little brown haired brown eyed sweetheart, probably about 15-16, ride up on horseback, look down at him and said “Hi!” Chris froze, no “Hi”, no “nice horse”, not even a “Who me??”, NOTHING!! Chris couldn’t acknowledge a good-looking girl on horseback who had gone out of her way to approach him and say hello. After she rode off, Chris was thinking she must have thought he was a stuck-up asshole by not saying anything back. And this just made him feel worse. This was pretty much Chris’s normal throughout his teenage years when it came to any interactions with opposite sex.
In the summer of Chris’s fourteenth year, he saw a help wanted sign stapled to a telephone pole near his house, soliciting casino firmaları laborers for some temporary work with a local landscaping and home improvement company to remove refuse from a wooded parcel of land. When Chris applied, he was told by the foreman (Jim) that the job would probably last for three weeks or less, and he and the other two temporary laborers would be paid under the table. Jim didn’t ask Chris his age, and it wasn’t volunteered. Jim saw a man over six feet tall and around 200 pounds. Just what he needed for this kind of job.
Jim was impressed with Chris’s work ethic, and three weeks later called Chris into his trailer and offered him an application for full time employment. Chris thanked Jim for the opportunity but said he would prefer to work as he had been, if there was any more of that kind of work available. When Jim pressed Chris for a reason, Chris told him how old he was. That was an “oh shit” moment. Jim convinced Chris to leave his contact information, shook his hand and thanked him. Jim later spoke to his father Bill (the owner of the company) about Chris.
Bill met with Chris the next week and explained he would find work for him with certain conditions. Chris would only be permitted to work 30 hours per week when school wasn’t in session. No more than 15 hours when he was in school. He was to remain in school until he graduated, and if his grades ever dropped below a B average, he would be terminated. If Chris was still with the company when he turned 16, he would be hired officially with the same conditions in place until he graduated high school.
Chris is a working man now.
Chris’s job helped him to continue to mature. Everyone he worked with was at least eighteen, but often in their twenties, thirties or higher. So he was growing up in more ways than one. And he became known as that quiet guy that did his job and didn’t bother anyone, but one you shouldn’t bother either, thanks to Mr. Harry.
Over time the other employees Chris worked with discovered Chris had a quick and sharp tongue whenever some friendly teasing came his way. He was never malicious, but he had become very adept at verbally blindsiding his fellow employees whenever they insisted on attracting his attention.
Unfortunately, in the 70s, there weren’t many women in this type of industry other than office workers that Chris had no reason to encounter. So as he became more mature and comfortable with most everything in his life, being able to talk to women was still way outside his comfort zone. And because Chris tended to keep his personal life to himself, no one he worked with knew it.
When Chris turned eighteen, a fellow coworker (Eric, who was 34) and one of the few people Chris had come to trust, invited Chris out for his first beer (beer and wine were legal for eighteen-year old’s at this time). At first Chris declined the offer, (that shyness thing) but he eventually relented when Eric told him they would just be going to the hole in the wall bar he frequented in the past to have a couple of beers. Chris told Eric it would have to wait until Friday.
Chris had never had a drink before, but he had seen more than one employee who had overindulged the night before, and he wasn’t taking any chances. Waiting until Friday would also give Chris time to finish moving into the apartment he signed a lease for on his eighteenth birthday that prior Wednesday.
Leaving home was Chris’s gift to himself.
It’s early Friday evening, and Eric has stopped by Chris’s apartment to make sure he was coming tonight. He had good instincts. Chris was thinking about canceling.
“Come on man, just a couple of hours in the hole in the wall bar I go to for a beer and some conversation. Hell, you might even get a birthday lay! How bad can it be?”
After a little more prodding, Chris tells Eric about his shyness issues with women. At first Eric doesn’t believe him. Chris had never given any indication of being shy at work, and Eric had been a look-out on the afternoon Chris had driven a particular blue and white colored vehicle into a creek three years ago. Shy just didn’t add up.
Chris went into more detail and Eric was shocked to find out Chris had never been with a woman. Forget sex. He had never even been with any woman! It didn’t compute. From Eric’s perspective, Chris’s personality was quiet with a pinch of crazy, but certainly not shy. Chris confided he could barely say hello to a girl, much less carry on a conversation. Eric was surprised by the revelation, but was still able to convince Chris to come out.
“Do you remember the first time you learned how to frame a wall? Or to drive a forklift? Or anything else you’ve learned over the years? You learned one step at a time. It’s the same with women. Begin with saying hi when one talks to you, then take the next step. A girl that doesn’t take the time to understand you, isn’t worth the time to let her. And who gives a shit what a girl like that thinks? I’ve güvenilir casino got your back. So let’s work on expanding your horizons. Trust me when I tell you, this is a horizon you want expanded!”
Chris trusts Eric, so he relents.
Eric is thinking to himself, “Now I know why he has always turned down invites to stop by and meet any of the wives or girlfriends for dinner or lunch. Tonight will be quite the crash course! The girls are going to love him!”
FYI, the name of the establishment they will be going to this evening is “The Hole In The Wall”, It’s a bar/nightclub that just happens to be quite popular with the ladies. Buckle up Chris!
When Eric pulled into the parking lot, Chris saw the name on the sign and the size of the place they were going to.
“You motherfucker!” was the first thing out of Chris’s mouth.
“Hey, you told me you first learned to swim when your sister pushed you off a pier at a lake. You did ok then. This is sort of the same thing. Only you don’t have to worry about dying!” Eric replies with a laugh.
“Yeah, but maybe you do,” was Chris’s quiet response.
He was just kidding right? Right. Shit!
Eric parks the car, turns to Chris and says, “Look, you’ve just turned eighteen, you’ve got your shit together more than most guys ten or fifteen years older than you. You’re in great shape, have no vices, a good job making good money. You just got your own place and have your own car. For as long as I have known you, this is the first time I have seen anything that remotely resembles fear in your eyes. I was there when you stole that fucking cop car for Christ sake! I was just a lookout and my fucking knees were knocking. You looked like you were checking out produce at a roadside fruit stand!”
“Chris, this is a door you want to go through! You really have no idea what lies on the other side! But if you really want me to, I’ll take you back and we can just get some dinner or something. But I would really feel bad for you if you do. It’s your call.”
While walking toward the entrance, Eric is telling Chris to be prepared, “Girls are going to approach you in there. The longer the night goes on, the more it will happen. If you can just say ‘Hi, yes, no, thank you, nice to meet you,’ you’ll have most of the battle won. When they start asking you questions, don’t focus on the girl, focus on the question and then how you want to answer it. They are going to know you’re shy. Accept that. The ones that get frustrated and leave, are the ones you want to leave. Fuck them. And just relax and have fun. Let the personality you have at work come out. You’re a good guy. Women like good guys. Especially when they look like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eric shakes his head and responds, “You’re going to have to trust me. You notice everything at work, and you have blinders on here. Take a look around, we’re not even inside yet and I have seen at least four girls eying you up already.”
“I’m not blind! I see them. I just don’t know why they’re looking at me. I’ve checked my fly twice since we got out of the car.”
“You need a drink,” Eric holds the door for Chris, “After you.”
They belly up to the bar, and the bartender Sondra calls out, “Hey Eric! What are you up to tonight?”
“Bringing my friend Chris out for his first drink. He just became legal this week!”
Sondra is a 31-year-old very well built blue eyed blonde. Her husband of 9 years is part owner of the club. She can see Chris’s face go red instantly when Eric spoke. Chris reminds Sondra of her younger brother. Not his looks, the shyness. And she knows to keep the conversation light and flirtation free.
“Good evening Chris. Welcome to The Hole In The Wall, my name is Sondra. What can I get you?” While giving Chris her most professional smile.
“Th-This is kind of new to me Sondra, I would appreciate anything that you may wish to recommend.” Not bad big guy! A little stuffed shirt, but not bad!
Sondra pours him a draft, “Let me know if you like this. If not, I’ll get you something else.”
Chris likes what he has and reaches into his pocket as Eric says, “Your money’s no good here tonight!” while Sondra adds, “And that one is on me Chris. Happy birthday!”
“That’s very kind of you ma’am. Thank you for your generosity.” Chris replies.
Sondra nods in acknowledgement.
“I need to talk to you for a second Eric,” Sondra says as she moves down the bar.
“What’s his story? He so sweet I’m getting fucking cavities over here! Is he always that polite? Did he really just turn eighteen?”
“He turned eighteen Wednesday, He is normally polite, and you are not going to believe his story!” And Eric tells her the tale.
Sondra’s jaw drops, multiple times, “THAT guy, has never kissed a girl before??”
“Never been kissed, never been on a date, never held a girl’s hand before!”
“What island has he been living on?”
“I know. I just found out tonight myself.”
“Ok, what do you say we work on keeping the sluts away from him while he’s here this evening? He seems to be too nice of a guy to get his cherry popped on the parking lot or in a bathroom stall.”
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