Twenty Lovers in my Hope Chest
1. Our Sisterhood
Chapter one
Our Sisterhood
S EX! Yes, there is SEX but this is more about longing, searching, experimenting, falling in love, out of love, playing the love game, and following my best friend’s journey, sampling lovers to see which one of many works best for Edie. Let’s think of her as a kind of Goldilocks when it comes to men. ‘This one is too sweet, this one too sour, this one too strong, this one too weak, this one is too rich, (is there such a thing as too rich? Seriously?) this one too poor and so it goes. Come with us and we’ll see if she finds the one that is “Just Right”. No matter your age, there is some moment in Edie’s life that you will undoubtedly identify with. You’ll have fun reading through this chronicle of sexcapades although we may never admit whether it’s fact or fiction. Keeping it PG 17 was difficult at times but I hope you’ll come along with us. If Edie hoped to leave a legacy for her family, this is not it!
I’ve known Edie most of my life. We’ve been friends, cohorts, sisters of sorts, troublemakers, comrades in crime, conniving women to antagonize deserving men, and supportive of each other through tragedy and triumph. She’s done more living than me and I’ve been a not-so-silent observer through all these decades. We’ve kept each other’s secrets all these years but I’ve never known anyone who has lived so many lives which is exactly why I decided to tell some of her stories. I am Jenny and Edie promised not to share my secrets even though I’m about to tell hers.
Maybe you will laugh, cry, shake your head, commiserate, doubt, and hyperventilate for one reason or another or you may decide to give this to your worst enemy. If you’re young, like under thirty, you’re probably under the impression that women back in our day wore skirts to their ankles and were chaste in every way. You need to crank up that time machine, girl. That was even before our time. We wore hot pants and go-go boots.
Edie will never admit this is her story, hold her feet to the fire, dip her in chocolate, or torture her with kisses, you will have to decide if this is fact or fiction. Mark Twain was quoted as saying, “Get all your facts and then distort them however you please.” As writers, it is said, “We write what we know” so most of these stories have snippets (or massive amounts) of truth. You, as a reader, can decide how you want to interpret them and which men you would like to fall in love with.
Being a therapist would be interesting but these stories could drive a therapist to her vodka bottle and she wouldn’t waste time with a glass. IF these were true stories, a therapist would have Edie and me on the couch for a year psychoanalyzing us. I can hear it now. “What was your relationship with your mothers? With your fathers? Did you have any male mentors in your lives? Were you physically or mentally abused? Did your parents have the ‘birds and bees’ talk with you? Do you have hang-ups about men?”
“No, WE LOVE MEN!” That’s Edie’s quote!
It’s not always about sex…but if it’s good sex, it’s about sex and it’s a plus. Sex, according to Edie’s mother is what kissing leads to. She experienced lots of kissing before it led to sex. Kissing, good kissing is an absolute must. If that sexy-looking hunk is a lousy kisser, it’s over for her. And believe me, she’s kissed lots of frogs and directed them back to their lily pad. One summer when she was about fifteen, she signed up for a job in a kissing booth at the county fair, (that was a thing back in our day) to conduct an experiment. “It was strictly a scientific endeavor,” Edie said but I know better. She loves kissing. By the way, she didn’t have sex with any of those men at the kissing booth but she did catch Mono. Bummer. In those days, in the 1900’s when we were born, (I love saying that to Gen Z kids!) men would gladly pay for a kiss. According to her study, only one in five men are good kissers…sad but true.
Speaking of frogs, (not really) she should have nightmares of lips chasing her, but she doesn’t. She loves kissing and she loves men. She’s always loved the attention of men but she’s very subtle about it so they think, in their pursuit of her, it’s their idea. Even though the guys thought, mistakenly, that they were in control, they chased her until she caught them. “It’s a gift,” her mother told her more than once, she also said, “You don’t have IT Edie , I do.”
Edie’s mom was a piece of work. Her persona was one of a religious saint, an angel. Anyone who knew her well knew there was a dark cruel side to her. I was afraid to be around her although I did respect her and she made me believe she could stop the world from spinning if she wanted to. But she was wrong about Edie having IT because I saw it many times in action and shook my head in glee as I watched her escapades. IT came from the early days, even before our time when girls with sex appeal and charisma showed a little too much skin and were called IT GIRLS . IT GIRLS are still a thing today. Edie probably got IT from her dad who was quite the carouser but Edie continued to allow her mother her fantasy. She was a good student, and watched her, even into her eighties, working her magic on men as Edie made mental notes. She was quite the lady. Her mother’s last man, however, was her tragic demise. Stuff Happens.
You may have had one lifelong relationship and shared all life has handed you with that person; Edie, however, is not that woman. If your relationship brought you joy and fulfillment or a reasonable facsimile of it, you’re luckier than most and you’re to be commended. Edie’s relationships were many, some lovely, educational, devastating, heartbreaking, fulfilling, but all interesting. Many times, I sat with her as she cried her heart out. It’s difficult to see your best friend in pain knowing there’s nothing you can do to help. Sometimes just being there is all you can do and it’s often the best comfort a friend can offer. In most cases, she wasn’t given a choice to stay forever, but she never gave up.
She wouldn’t try to justify her choices through her many years of loving men. That was her life and she didn’t know, or have a chance to live it differently in many cases. What’s the point? I sometimes think our destiny is preset but then I think perhaps we can change our destiny by the choices we make. We don’t always see the options when we’re lost in the forest but looking back, we may realize we could have done things differently. She’d done the choosing, she’d done the leaving but she’d also been left, sometimes joyously, other times heartbroken. Some memories cause her sorrow but Edie says, “I wouldn’t have many of the beautiful times of love if I hadn’t taken those chances. I have a few regrets, but I try to let those roll off my back, bury them under a metaphoric rock, or slip them into my Hope Chest.” That’s my darling friend Edie.
Being married for a hundred years would be okay, an amazing accomplishment, but from her point of view it seems a bit boring but how would she know? Many of her relationships are short-lived, “Practice makes perfect,” has been her motto and she’s done lots of practicing. If she was deeply passionately in love with a man who cared as much for her as she did for him, it would be all good. But, seriously, is that ever the case? After a long relationship, it seems one would go through the motions more out of habit than passion. Where’s the thrill, the burning that sets you on fire? If it’s still there, fan that flame.
As it turns out, Edie had plenty of time to experience new things, new men, new arrangements, and new fun. She didn’t have much time to be bored so as I tell her stories you’ll understand why there are so many memories in this beautiful Hope Chest of Love. She was always excited about a new lover and I lived my life through her. I’m not saying I didn’t have my own fun but she usually led me into trouble. At least that’s what I tell her. Most of us don’t have a perfect life so I’ll admit there is some heartache in these stories but if we never dip our toes into the water, we will never know if we can walk on it. It takes faith, or poor judgment, at some point. She’s the first to admit some of her judgment wobbled on ‘stupid’ and I’m right there to second that.
As you read through this silliness, maybe my words and Edie’s experiences will kindle some memories you haven’t let yourself think about. A little daydreaming won’t hurt; it might even stir a dormant desire you’ve not taken time to investigate even if it’s with your longtime lover. Keeping love and passion current takes some planning, and some deliberate action but many times we become complacent and forget how good it can be if we just put out a little effort. In my experiences and my observations of Edie, it’s my opinion that men always think about sex no matter how old they become. It’s just who they are so take a chance, put on that old sexy negligee that’s been in the drawer for years. You might just have some fun and no doubt he will, probably at your expense or delight.
This isn’t Edie’s confession, “Deny, Deny, Deny”, she says, though if her family ever reads this, she’ll probably be disowned, but we all dance to our own song and sometimes life happens despite ourselves. It’s hilarious to me that when I write fiction, people believe it is truth but when I write truth, they think it’s fiction. I didn’t intend to write a book. Edie and I had a few too many margaritas and talked of some of our most memorable affairs and that set me on this path. If you’ve never been a free spirit like Edie, I hope you’ll have some fun wandering through this maze of convoluted sex and attraction and you might wonder what would have happened if you followed that sometimes forbidden path.
I’m not suggesting any of you go out looking for some fun but remember, life is short and as far as I know, we won’t be passing this way again so making the most of what we’ve got means going for whatever brings you some pleasure. If you knew Edie like I do, you wouldn’t call her promiscuous, she just fell into waiting arms looking for comfort and love. I will try to avoid crossing the line as I tell her stories, but some juicy junk may sneak in here or there. Perhaps you will see yourself in some of these accounts or hold a book-burning ceremony to rid the world of this smut. If you’re going to do that, invite me. I’ll bring the marshmallows and Edie will bring the chocolate.
You may remember Hope Chests. Most young women had one usually made out of cedar. Inside a girl would begin storing things that she would use after she got married; a special place to keep things of value and sentiment for that time when she began making a home. As I was writing this book, I began thinking about what was special about each man in Edie’s relationships. While putting those special attributes on paper, I was visualizing what things Edie might have put inside her Hope Chest and maybe she would use them someday if any of them were to qualify as husband material.
If you get bored and are looking for something more ‘steamy’, be patient, it’s coming. Keep in mind this is chronological from the first awakening of a twelve-year-old girl to the present day many decades later. Life has been more than her relationships with men but that entire story would be a memoir and I’m sure she’s not ready for that. I thought it would be fun to ‘kiss and tell’ even if it’s someone else’s story. Her daughters and granddaughters rarely have any interest in her stories so she’s not too worried about their finding this and much less reading it. They would never believe it was Edie’s story so we’re good. Come along with us. Let’s have some fun.