I was reminiscing about what I used to have before I was married, romance, sex, and giving the loves of my life more sexual pleasure than I wanted myself. My anticipation once married starts well then gradually but all falls to hell.
My name is Leonidas. I am sixty-seven years old. I'm stretching out on my outdoor recliner on the deck of a huge house I built. I have a huge monster of a deck bigger than most houses, after all, I am Spartan, and I can do anything. Sipping a nice ice-cold Corona with a twist of lime penetrated through the top of the bottle, eleven more next to me in the cooler. What a fucking ride I'm going to have with these, alone!
Where has sixty-seven years gone? In a few months, I will have been married for forty-one years. Let's call my wife Athena, but more times than not she can be a young Medusa, not with the power to turn you to stone but only to turn your heart to stone.
Yes, I have Spartan blood from my grandparents, who left Greece around 1907 for the East Coast of the USA. My Papou, Yia Yia, and their daughter, my aunt made the journey.
My profile picture is real, I entertained bodybuilding in the early seventies. It made me upset because I was only one spot away from receiving a trophy, but my training partner did win the entire event in 1979. I had six-pack ABS before anybody wanted them, now everybody does.
I went to college for electrical engineering, graduated, and worked in Massachusetts. The company was involved in research and development for the equipment for the distribution backbone of the newly developed Internet.
I also worked for my aunt, father, and uncle who was also my godfather down at a beach place that had two seasonal restaurants where I've worked since I was twelve as a cook.
I am a semi-retired Harley Davidson Biker and a hot rod builder with a 1968 Camaro Super Sport, my sweet ride! The color was Corvette yellow with a black vinyl top.
In the offseason, when the beach business was closed, I also learned how to build houses and do computer programming, so I was a jack of all trades.
Today, my kids can't even flip an egg with just your right hand on the frying pan handle, all four of them. My children include one son a daughter and then twin daughters. All of them an "OOPS," but the twins were the biggest surprise. I loved practicing sex with Athena for the first eight years but, it was nice to have a son to carry the last name forward, as there are not many of us left here, but I do have cousins in Greece.
I visited my cousins in 1988. They all cried seeing me, being mad that I came before my father did, but he would never get on a plane. He fought in the Battle of the Bulge and when his service was over, he came back from Europe on the boat.
Growing up, my aunt always wanted me to marry a "nice" Greek girl, because my father (her brother) never did. Oddly enough, my aunt didn't go to my parents' wedding. Can you believe that?
My mom is Italian, and I love the Italian side of my family. My mother's sister lived two houses down from us. Her husband, my Uncle Johnny, was a barber, and the jolliest guy on the planet. I always hated it when he cut my hair because it was always too short. I couldn't even hold a pencil on top of my ear at the restaurant to take orders. I only saw Uncle Johnny pissed off maybe two times in my life, and it was not a pretty sight.
My cousin Paula and I still talk today. She has always been a great source of support for me. I have a vivid memory of escorting Paula onto the stage at her high school event when I was six years old. She looked so beautiful in her gown, while I walked her in my tuxedo, feeling proud to be by her side I am Spartan.
TRYING TO HOOK ME UP:
My Greek aunt said, "You should find a nice Greek girl, there's nothing wrong with them, go to the Greek dances, and I'll pay. I’ll take you to Greece to meet your cousins." I never had any interest; still kicking myself in the ass for not going to Greece with her, I have a thousand questions, but her grave does not respond when I visit her.
I always had this idea in my mind that Greek girls just had mustaches, sideburns, and hairy armpits; I don't know why. All of you people don't know how lucky you are growing up with the Internet and cell phones. Google "Greek girls" now, dam they are so fucking hot!
In the past, we only had a landline, typically one phone in the kitchen, with no VCR, internet, and only about ten over-the-air channels on TV. Therefore, knowledge comes from learning from others, which I always take with a grain of salt!
THE GREEK CONNECTION:
On my way to work at the beach, I visited my father's friend Christo's breakfast place one spring morning. I would often stop in and order their breakfast special. Christo mentioned wanting to set me up with his niece, but I didn't think much of it then. He used to frequent our large restaurant next door in the afternoons to escape from his place, where he would order an ice-cold draft of Narragansett beer and a shrimp basket.
Fourth of July weekend, we were hammered, every day was a fourteen-hour shift. The small place closed at 11 PM if we were lucky, sometimes at midnight. The big place next door had a full bar and fit about three hundred people; the last call was at 1 AM. We were lucky to get out by 1:30 AM and in bed by 2 AM., then back there at 10 AM.
There were so many people there on July third to see the huge bonfire on the beach. We had a small counter with stools on one side of the small place that was for customers. We mainly had take-out at the front windows at the smaller place. But if people wanted to sit there and eat, they could do so.
THE VISIT:
A girl came in, and sat at the counter with an older lady I figured it was her mother. They mentioned who they were, and I understood this was the niece of my father's friend from the restaurant. As the girl spoke with a slight accent, when she tried to say "beach," it came out as "bitch." She had kind of a cute face but was on the heavy side. Her mother comically not so good English.
Anyway, didn't think much about it I had to get back to work, as they left. I see them walking down the road in front of the place. As I stocked the cooler with soda and ice. I peered out the window again and she was wearing a type of spandex shorts to mid-thigh and a huge tee shirt, I thought to myself, oh God, thunder thighs, big butt.
Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike heavy people. Some of my closest friends and family are big, and they are all funny as hell and we always had a good time with each other. Sometimes it is a medical condition, it's not their fault. I love them all dearly.
I remember that at that time, she wasn't the type of girl I had imagined being with or anyone for that matter. I won't go into detail about my previous girlfriends; I valued quality over quantity, having only five relationships before getting married.
THE REVISIT:
I would stop in Christo’s restaurant from time to time for breakfast, I liked talking to her uncle. Most of the time she wasn't there. Might have been her day off, once she was peeking out the back kitchen door looking as I caught her from the corner of my eye.
Eleven months later, getting the beach restaurants ready to open for the season, she was there up front at the counter she looked totally different. The counter was full, and all the stools were taken. After about twenty seconds, the people left my favorite seat. The uncle said to me, "Demetrios, ella katsa, thes-na-fass," meaning "Come sit down. Do you want to eat?"
I always sat on the first stool next to the cash register where the uncle always leaned against the cash register, his baby. The money, the money, the money, I thought. Sometimes he would call me "Demetrios." I think he was hitting the cognac; he'd say, "Demetrios and the Gladiators, you look like Victor Mature, the actor." He did seem a little tipsy from the cognac, I guess it was 5 pm somewhere in the world I thought, he probably put in twelve hours already while I was on breakfast time in the morning.
I said to the uncle, "Wow, did your niece find a boyfriend and fall in love? She looks different from last year." I was sipping my coffee when he said, "YES she's waiting for you." I gagged on my coffee, choking as it passed through my nose.
I saw her a few more times over the summer. I always left her a dollar; coffee was only twenty-five cents back then so I guess that was a hefty tip.
EARLY NOVEMBER:
I always took a ride down the beach on Saturdays to check both places and since my aunt had passed. I would check on the two buildings for my dad. God, I love that woman like a mother. She raised my dad since he was twelve when they lost their father, mother, and sister all in one year to TB.
When my aunt was alive, I would make that Saturday trip, and stay an hour or two. I always ask her if she needs anything at the market before I return home with a twenty-minute ride. She never drove. She would not let me leave till I had lunch, amazing what she could whip up from the fridge. She made me her Greek-style salmon salad sandwich from a can.
She said, "Taste it. It's good." It was fucking amazing as I ate it. She always zipped up my jacket more saying, "It's cold outside." She always kissed my cheek, always said, "See you later and be careful" and never said goodbye. So, I still kept the same tradition, except helping my dad out while he made signs in the off-season for his Greek friends who had many restaurants.
FIRST DATE LATE NOVEMBER:
On a trip to the beach a week before the end of November. I stopped in for a coffee on the way. God, she was looking good I don't think she wore any makeup. Just her natural colors were vibrant, sweet smile and was kind of shy, and her breasts were a perfect size, not too big, not too small, just right. Too much is a waste.
I asked her out for the following Saturday, but she said she had an event to go to because she had to do the makeup in hair for some girls, her friends in a modeling agency. There were other companies there, I can't remember what the event was about. But I said, "Okay, I can take you there and we could grab something light to eat after."
I remember taking my camera with me because I think she asked me if I had one to take some pictures of her working on the models. I rang the doorbell when her mother opened the door a big smile on her face. Gave me two big kisses on each cheek, old Greek style. I thought it was kind of funny. Our family was only a one-cheek kissing, coming and going. Her mother said in broken English "Haa-Vaa-U,” comically.
As I walked into the kitchen, I said to myself, "Holy Shit." Her three brothers were there. I said, "Nick, how are you doing?" Put my hand out to shake his hand. His mother started talking a mile a minute in Greek, wondering what was going on.
I knew Nick from college. We had the same courses, but two different time slots. We bumped into each other once in a while. We started talking in college because I could tell his accent was Greek so we hit it off pretty good.
THE DATE:
The date went pretty well, she introduced me to some of the models, some she was close with, God, they were gorgeous. Well, she'd done her thing with the girls. I walked around to the other booths to see what they had to offer. I went back to where Athena was and I took some pictures for her. I will get them developed soon, remember no digital cameras yet or cell phones.
Afterward, we went to the restaurant Greg's another Greek friend of my father's. I ordered a Ruben Sandwich and I love their New York deli-style pickles. I don't remember what she ordered; it might have been the same. She told me about how they came here from Greece and about her uncle.
I remember wearing my black biker jacket, it was plain. I was waiting for my friend biker Barry to sew on my huge Harley Davidson wings. I wanted it on my back between my shoulders and other association patches I belonged to.
Arriving back at her house, I walked her to the door and told her I had a great time and maybe we could do it again sometime, she agreed. I had eyes behind the back of my head. She was telling me at the restaurant about her father having nightmares about being in the Greek army during the war with the Turks. I thought I had better get out of here fast. Exit stage right? Something about a sickle and chopping their heads off.
THE RIDE HOME CONTEMPLATING:
I had a twenty-minute ride back home the same as going from the beach to the house. I started contemplating just what happened after our first date. I was wondering if this was a gift from my aunt from heaven I don't know. It was weird because I wasn't looking for a Greek girl, just fell into this one. We'll see, I got a lot of shit going on in my head. I had just come off a sad breakup, it's kind of heartbreaking, but it was inevitable. It was a one-and-a-half-year relationship. Remember I said quality in women, not quantity.
This one woman was a widower, who aggressively pursued me but sweetly down the beach. This was before they were called "MILFS" or "Cougars," she was ten to twelve years older than me. She had two great kids in their beginning teens, the daughter was a cute version of the mother of years before. The son wanted to get into bodybuilding and beef up some muscles. No, I never had my shirt off in front of them. But with my short sleeves or tank top, my biceps were pretty large size, and my forearm muscles were definitely cut. She said I was her first since her husband had died. I believed her, why lie about that? God, that woman took me around the world in her bed, but that can be a whole story all by itself… maybe?
I went by the restaurant a week later for breakfast, on the way to the beach and her uncle had a shit-eating grin from ear to ear, just nodding his head yes…. too funny.
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