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Chapter 46 Husband For Hire

I am an adventurous, creative, man who is looking to share my life with a soul mate. I have been fortunate enough to have many chapters of love, many more than I shared here, but never with my soul mate. I live in gratitude, pay it forward every day, am a helpless romantic and take great pride in maintaining most of my relationships for life. I am an artist, entrepreneur, athlete and father of two incredible young adults. I am caring, intelligent, wise, understanding and giving.

I have always thought that I was never truly loved. Perhaps it is because I have such a hard time loving myself. I would like to fall in love with a woman who sees all that I am and for all the right reasons. I hope that I will see her, for all the right reasons, as well. I tend to be a “Brainiac,” yet, at the same time entertaining, especially when the opportunity arises to break out my cameras and create. I am very passionate about sailing. I hope to navigate the world with my love one day. For now, I am navigating Long Island and loving it. I am family oriented. For some reason, children seem to enjoy my entertaining ways, especially when we play Simon Says.

I write professionally, produce and direct professionally and own an alternative currency trade network. I am your classic entrepreneur. I was sick for a very long time, but thanks to modern medicine and technology, I am much better now. I live a very healthy lifestyle. Despite the fact I have worked as a professional photographer and have photographed beautiful women from around the world, I do not think my future soul mate will be from the entertainment industry, or at least not someone who dedicates her life to it.

I am an adventurous, creative, man who is looking to share my life with a soul mate. I have been fortunate enough to have many chapters of love, many more than I shared here, but never with my soul mate. I live in gratitude, pay it forward every day, am a helpless romantic and take great pride in maintaining most of my relationships for life. I am an artist, entrepreneur, athlete and father of two incredible young adults. I am caring, intelligent, wise, understanding and giving.

I have always thought that I was never truly loved. Perhaps it is because I have such a hard time loving myself. I would like to fall in love with a woman who sees all that I am and for all the right reasons. I hope that I will see her, for all the right reasons, as well. I tend to be a “Brainiac,” yet, at the same time entertaining, especially when the opportunity arises to break out my cameras and create. I am very passionate about sailing. I hope to navigate the world with my love one day. For now, I am navigating Long Island and loving it. I am family oriented. For some reason, children seem to enjoy my entertaining ways, especially when we play Simon Says.

I write professionally, produce and direct professionally and own an alternative currency trade network. I am your classic entrepreneur. I was sick for a very long time, but thanks to modern medicine and technology, I am much better now. I live a very healthy lifestyle. Despite the fact I have worked as a professional photographer and have photographed beautiful women from around the world, I do not think my future soul mate will be from the entertainment industry, or at least not someone who dedicates her life to it.

At this point living in and around Huntington, Long Island is where I want to be. If possible, I will buy some land and build a log cabin…a dream of mine since I was a child. I literally started my life over in 2015, for at least the third time, with not much more than my health intact. It’s odd to not be living in my own home. I had been since my twenties. Truly, I never thought I would make it past thirty, haven been given multiple diagnoses of “don’t make any long-term plans.” Now that technology and modern medicine have caught up to my health issues, I hope I will live a very long life, barring sinking my sailboat in the middle of the ocean.

I am quite happy living out of a suitcase, RV, tiny apartment, or most certainly the sailboat. I have little financial security and work fifteen hours a day. If you have been fortunate enough to secure our future, I am humble enough to be grateful. If not, eventually I will, or we will. I am working very hard to secure the retirement and future I was not supposed to have.

I love everyone, as I owe my life to society, the surgeons, the doctors, nurses, my angel investors, family, friends, clients and most importantly, my children. I dream of living my life with a partner, as opposed to sharing endless chapters of love. I desire a novel of love with a soul mate. It is something I have hoped and longed for my entire life. Although I have had so many chapters of love, I can still fall in love as if it was my first time. My heart is pure and my intentions are always honest and moral. I do not lie, unless it is to spare someone’s feelings. Despite the fact every single word of this book is true, I have intentionally substituted parts of every chapter with parts of others, to protect the identify of my chapters of love.

I have so many more chapters of love I could write about. I believe the ones I already shared truly express the overall way in which I have loved. You should never have to ask me about how many times I have been in love, as I have been in love more times than I can remember. I no longer want to hook-up with partners in non-committed relationships. As such, I remain sexually conservative, despite the “oops, did that just happen moments,” in my recent past. When I do find you, or you find me, I want it to feel like home, whenever we are together. I know that when we are not, we will each be counting the time until we are together again. You are loyal, trustworthy, honest, kind and possess so many more qualities that will surprise me. Children especially love you, but so does everyone else. You are drama free, for the most part, and affectionate.

You put your family first and are happy with the life you have built for yourself. You listen as much as you speak, regardless of who is talking. You are beautiful beyond words, even though not everyone thinks you are. I believe that you are. You will love me forever, as I will love you. We cannot predict the future, except that our love will last an eternity. You will love our children more than you love me.

 

LOVE IS THE ONLY THING WE TAKE WITH US,

AND THE ONLY THING WE LEAVE BEHIND.

 

LIVE IN GRATITUDE

PAY IT FORWARD

CHERISH YOUR CHAPTERS OF LOVE

 

John Joseph Dowling Jr.

Chapter 44 – The Hitchhiker

As a single father, I couldn’t afford to travel after my divorce. I took my children skiing in upstate New York and to the beach. Long Island beaches and the ski slopes up north were destinations people traveled to from around the world, so it wasn’t a hardship. But, I hadn’t seen much of the US, other than when I was a boy. When I started my journey in the RV, I hoped to find adventure anything that would provide something different to look at or photograph while I was walking. I was also living out a bucket list of sorts albeit one on a minuscule budget. Most days on the road were like that of a professional athlete. I had my good days and my bad days. I never knew what my tomorrow was going to be like as my health roller-coastered daily, sometimes even hourly.

What I did know was that I couldn’t walk on Long Island or in New York City any more. Everything started to look the same. I felt as if I knew every blade of grass, in every park and every beach on Long Island. The City, was too noisy. Life seemed like an endless treadmill. I felt like Bill Murray’s character in “Ground Hog Day.” Incidentally, I met and photographed him at the Forest Hills US Open quite informally. When I left New York, one of my life-long friends helped me pick up the camper and attach it to my car. He was so much better at things like that and I wanted to see him one time before I left. I thought I might never see him again. We went back decades. I was the one who introduced him to his wife. They spent a month in my waterbed. I couldn’t get rid of them. But, we were like brothers, so I didn’t want to. I was happy they found love. They have three boys now and have spent decades together.

I was on my way to anywhere USA. I was terrified of leaving everything behind and going to God knows where? The day I left, my daughter called me crying. She wanted to see me one more time, but it was too late. I was already hours away. I contemplated driving all the way back to New York, just to give her one last hug. I couldn’t bring myself to see her. I was crying for hours, knowing that I might never see her again. It was as if my heart stayed on Long Island, with her. I was trying to convince myself that it was for the best. The doctors had been telling me for many years that the stents were failing. There was nothing they could do. I never told anyone and especially tried to keep it from my children. At that point my health was deteriorating rapidly in ways I could never have predicted and I didn’t want my children to see me suffer.

As a single father, I couldn’t afford to travel after my divorce. I took my children skiing in upstate New York and to the beach. Long Island beaches and the ski slopes up north were destinations people traveled to from around the world, so it wasn’t a hardship. But, I hadn’t seen much of the US, other than when I was a boy. When I started my journey in the RV, I hoped to find adventure anything that would provide something different to look at or photograph while I was walking. I was also living out a bucket list of sorts albeit one on a minuscule budget. Most days on the road were like that of a professional athlete. I had my good days and my bad days. I never knew what my tomorrow was going to be like as my health roller-coastered daily, sometimes even hourly.

What I did know was that I couldn’t walk on Long Island or in New York City any more. Everything started to look the same. I felt as if I knew every blade of grass, in every park and every beach on Long Island. The City, was too noisy. Life seemed like an endless treadmill. I felt like Bill Murray’s character in “Ground Hog Day.” Incidentally, I met and photographed him at the Forest Hills US Open quite informally. When I left New York, one of my life-long friends helped me pick up the camper and attach it to my car. He was so much better at things like that and I wanted to see him one time before I left. I thought I might never see him again. We went back decades. I was the one who introduced him to his wife. They spent a month in my waterbed. I couldn’t get rid of them. But, we were like brothers, so I didn’t want to. I was happy they found love. They have three boys now and have spent decades together.

I was on my way to anywhere USA. I was terrified of leaving everything behind and going to God knows where? The day I left, my daughter called me crying. She wanted to see me one more time, but it was too late. I was already hours away. I contemplated driving all the way back to New York, just to give her one last hug. I couldn’t bring myself to see her. I was crying for hours, knowing that I might never see her again. It was as if my heart stayed on Long Island, with her. I was trying to convince myself that it was for the best. The doctors had been telling me for many years that the stents were failing. There was nothing they could do. I never told anyone and especially tried to keep it from my children. At that point my health was deteriorating rapidly in ways I could never have predicted and I didn’t want my children to see me suffer.

I don’t know if she will ever forgive me for leaving without coming to see her. But, my heart was torn and broken, both literally and figuratively. My son was studying in Sweden so there was some distance between us. I truly believed that I would die on the road. I was going to make the best of the last chapter of my life. I would film everything, so they could see what a fruitful life I led. I was writing my manuscript and this book, so I was going to leave them a documentary about myself…their dad. I thought, what more could a father do than to leave a complete account of his life. I wanted to end it happily, as opposed to miserably, locked inside, not being able to venture outdoors all winter.

By the time I got to Nashville, my little puppy Buda was peeing all over the car and the RV was not working properly. The owners of the RV company were generous and thoughtful. I was booking flash-mobs all over the country, even though I was getting too sick to shoot them. I thought, wow, all I have to do is produce one in each state. It would only take a few minutes to shoot. I produced one with Toderick Hall, the musician and it got millions of views. I thought it was a viable plan. I was completely wrong, as producing flash mobs was a hit or miss adventure. Eventually, I started to film documentaries and edit them at night, in the RV.

By the time I got to Nashville, I learned how diverse people are around the country. I couldn’t believe how big the USA is. I was driving six hours a day and walking three to four hours. It seemed like I was getting nowhere fast. Most of the time I would stay overnight at truck stops. In 2011 and 2012 the fallout from “The Great Recession” was still plaguing the US. In Nashville, street and honky tonk musicians who were working for tips, were barely surviving. I took a lot of photographs and hooked-up with several musicians to make a documentary. Then, I left and went to see Elvis’ home. I always admired Elvis. When I got there, it was not what I expected, so I didn’t even go in. I headed west to the Grand Canyon, but not before I picked up a hitchhiker, a female who was making her way to L.A.

She was down to earth. She carried the traditional European style back pack. I could tell she was “living off the land”, because although she was beautiful, she had a certain toughness to her. She was young and must have been on the road for a while. We drove about ten hours while she told me her life story and kept me company. I was concerned that I could be held up, but it didn’t matter at that point. I said screw it and pulled over to get her. Later, I would realize how dangerous the roads were, but not because of hitchhikers. I had no idea how to drive, towing a 4500-pound trailer behind my car. I drove past tornados without knowing it. I blew a tire in Arizona and was fortunate to have help from the local police who changed it for me. I took every kind of risk one could take, without much thought. I was going to see America first-hand. The most important aspect of my journey, other than trying to walk my way back to good health, was the people and nature.

I made a documentary about the Mexican gray wolf in New Mexico. I was up close and personal with the wolves. I told the handler about my health and she let me in their enclosure. She went in with me, but until you see a pack of wolves stalking you, circling you, you have no idea how fortunate you are to not encounter them in the wild. I was also up close and personal with bobcats and mountain lions for the first time in my life. I even watched a mated pair of American Bald Eagles build a nest. I photographed them many times. My bucket list was turning out to be quite an adventure after all. The backpacking hitchhiker made it even more eventful. We were not together all that long, so she was not like my “co-pilot.” She wanted to walk and backpack from Tennessee to L.A. She had a car and said she was from a great family, so she wasn’t in a desperate situation. It was serendipitous that I found her, as I needed a distraction at the time. At one point, I was lost. My car’s navigation was choosing poor routes and often I would get stuck in terrible traffic. When I met her, I was on some mountain, in the middle of nowhere. But, it was a beautiful nowhere.

As we were driving through the mountains, she started to change her clothes, in the front seat next to me. She then asked me straight out, “would you like a blow job.” I was completely taken by surprise. I hesitated, thinking she was going to ask me for money. I looked at her as if she was just screwing with me. Before I could answer she unbelted my pants and went down on me. I was driving down the mountain and trying to lay back in my seat. I didn’t leave LI thinking I was going to find love, or even a chapter of love. I was focusing completely on my health. She was determined to get me off. I didn’t even know if I could. It was way too dangerous. I hadn’t tested my “gear” for quite a while. But, as I drove down the mountain, she went to town. As I came, she kept sucking until I was completely drained. At that point I was driving erratically, but who wouldn’t have been? After I came, I asked if she wanted to stop at a campground, shower and stay the night with me. As the mountain became hills and then eventually flattened out, she said thanks for the ride and got out as fast as she got in.

We had talked for hours. I had met another down-to-earth “mid-west farmer’s daughter,” reminiscent of my neighbor in the city, years earlier. I will never forget her , or that matter the blowjob, despite the fact she was in and out of my life so quickly. This was going to be a great bucket list. After I dropped her off, I went to see Hollywood and Beverly Hills. I met with an investor, but he decided not to sponsor the feature films I wanted to produce. He knew I was too sick. We made a deal before I drove from Nashville to California, that if he didn’t invest, he would pay for my gas and costs to get back to New York. He kept his word. He gave me a few thousand dollars and I did head back. The shit hit the fan health wise as soon as I arrived in California.

I drove to Vegas, The Grand Canyon, literally all over the United States on the way back, zigzagging my way around the country. Not because I wanted to, but because that damn navigation kept taking me on the craziest routes. In retrospect, it was great that it did, as I saw so much more of the USA than I would have otherwise. Interestingly enough, when I drove through Detroit I was shocked! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It looked like the Bronx, back in the seventies, with all the windows missing or boarded up, on the buildings and stores. It was unbelievable that this was the United States. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was in Beirut.

I made it back and had my surgeries. I went back out again and hoped I would run into my soul mate. While I had given rides to many hitchhikers on Long Island, I had never picked up a female before. I certainly never expected to have a short chapter of love with a girl I met wandering alone in the mountains. I often wonder where she is today. I know most people would think she was easy and think less of her because we had just met. The truth is, we were fascinated with each other. I often wished I would have convinced her to stay with me longer. Maybe one day she will read this novel and reach out to me. I know in my heart that one day my soul mate will find me; God knows how long I have searched for her.

 

Chapter 39 – Angel Of Love

I was floating in the most serene of spaces. I had no idea where I was; only that it was very peaceful. It was the most comfortable and relaxed feeling I ever experienced. It was as if I was weightless and floating above whatever it was I had been laying on. It felt warm, like bathwater at the perfect temperature. It felt like I was touching nothing. I was just there somehow. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I wasn’t sure why. I felt like I was dreaming, yet awake. If there was a heaven on earth, that is where I was. I felt no stress, no worry, no fear, nothing but peace. There were no birds, no trees and no blankets. I was just floating.

But, there was light. It was as bright a light as I had ever seen; only I couldn’t see anything. I was aware of my body, but couldn’t feel it. It was as if I was in an incubator and didn’t even have to breathe on my own. I was confused, to say the least. And then, I heard a kind and gentle voice that seemed to be whispering directly into my brain.

As her voice became clearer, I began to feel my heart beat again… but very slowly. And then, the voice would fade away. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, even though the message seemed to be coming from within my own body. Then, another heartbeat. But, still no breathing. Then her voice became clearer. She was saying, “breathe, Mr. Dowling. You have to breathe.” I was still floating. Each time I heard her voice, I would suck in air. While everything else was effortless, the breathing was not. It was almost impossible. Even so, I did not feel as if I was suffocating. I just wasn’t breathing. It was as if I was in suspended animation.

I was floating in the most serene of spaces. I had no idea where I was; only that it was very peaceful. It was the most comfortable and relaxed feeling I ever experienced. It was as if I was weightless and floating above whatever it was I had been laying on. It felt warm, like bathwater at the perfect temperature. It felt like I was touching nothing. I was just there somehow. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I wasn’t sure why. I felt like I was dreaming, yet awake. If there was a heaven on earth, that is where I was. I felt no stress, no worry, no fear, nothing but peace. There were no birds, no trees and no blankets. I was just floating.

But, there was light. It was as bright a light as I had ever seen; only I couldn’t see anything. I was aware of my body, but couldn’t feel it. It was as if I was in an incubator and didn’t even have to breathe on my own. I was confused, to say the least. And then, I heard a kind and gentle voice that seemed to be whispering directly into my brain.

As her voice became clearer, I began to feel my heart beat again… but very slowly. And then, the voice would fade away. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, even though the message seemed to be coming from within my own body. Then, another heartbeat. But, still no breathing. Then her voice became clearer. She was saying, “breathe, Mr. Dowling. You have to breathe.” I was still floating. Each time I heard her voice, I would suck in air. While everything else was effortless, the breathing was not. It was almost impossible. Even so, I did not feel as if I was suffocating. I just wasn’t breathing. It was as if I was in suspended animation.

Her voice was a little louder each time I heard it. Every time she would say breathe, I would take another breath. As her voice became louder I could feel my hand. There was something in it, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Next, I began to feel my chest rising and falling very slowly. Something about the mystical voice was calming. It was as if an angel was speaking to me directly from heaven. I started to feel that I was returning to my body. I started to hear all beeping sounds as well as voices. The voices had more urgency in their tone then hers, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I continued to hear; “Mr. Dowling you have to breathe. If you don’t, you are going to die.”

The voice became louder and louder, but it was still the most soothing sound I ever heard. And then like a rush of boiling oil, I felt the pain shooting through my leg. I was in agony. In a matter of what seemed to be a millisecond, I went from the most peaceful place I have ever been, to the most painful place I could ever imagine. It was as if Lucifer himself was torturing me in hell. I screamed out in agony, sucking in as much air as I could, begging, “MERCY, PLEASE HAVE MERCY!” I started to see flashes of light and realized I was in the hospital. I had just come out of massive surgery to try to save my leg. As I screamed out, I started to cry. The tears were rolling down my face until there were none left. Then I recognized my surgeon who was saying, “If you push the red button too many times, you are going to stop breathing, have a stroke, or die; you are only breathing four to five times a minute.” I was trying to focus, but I couldn’t stop crying or screaming. I thought I was in hell. I was in so much pain. I suffered so much during many years of daily marathon walks. How could I be in this position now? It slowly started to come to me. When I pushed the red button, I would go from agony to tranquility. It was releasing drugs directly into my body and was immediately transferring me back into that safe, calm, peaceful place. But the risk of pushing it was my own mortality.

The pain hit with the force of a stabbing wave. It felt as if boiling tar was being poured into my leg and abdomen and I screamed, “PLEASE HELP ME.” I didn’t even know what I was saying, only that I was pleading for the pain to stop. The woman’s voice was echoing in my mind. Then, something was shaking me. I opened my eyes to a blinding light. That voice was warning me not to push the button, if I ever wanted to see my children again. I didn’t understand the connection of my children to that red button. As soon as I heard that, I threw the red button in my hand as far from me as possible. When I could no longer feel anything occupying my right hand, the pain came roaring back. It was completely overwhelming. I ran out of tears, energy, even the power to moan, or cry. I was whimpering as if I was paralyzed and my leg was on fire.

I don’t know how long I was under, how long I had been screaming, or even what was happening to me. I heard my surgeon tell someone to take me off morphine and put me on something else. I thought I must have been in an accident. I knew I was in the hospital, but I didn’t know why. I would fade in and out of reality. Every time I did, that whispering voice would plead with me to breathe. Finally, I could see her. She was an angel aglow in white. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was not a figment of my imagination. She was sitting next to me, pleading with me to breathe. At this point I could recognize that she was holding my hand. I couldn’t feel her hand, just some pressure. It seemed like several lifetimes, but the torturous inferno had gone out. As I came out of my drug-induced haze, I could see that I was in the recovery room. Then it hit me. I lived through it. I was alive! After years of walking to strengthen my body, they finally fixed the artery in my leg. But, would I live?

By the time I realized where I was, and that the surgery was a success, she was gone. My surgeon told me he had to go extra deep, for the new artery they created in my leg to last a lifetime. As I became more coherent, I saw the huge bandage that stretched from my belly button, all the way down to my ankle. I was told that I wasn’t breathing enough. At that point I was only taking one breath per eleven to fifteen seconds. The painkillers weren’t working because of the immunity I had built up over the years, when I needed them during my long marathon walks. Somehow, the administrators who checked me into the emergency room and who physically took the pain killers from me, never told the surgeons how long I was on them. Nor could anyone predict, prior to surgery, just how immune I had become to them.

When I came out of the operating room the medical team faced a choice of mercy or life. They were trying to be as compassionate as possible, while at the same time, not kill me. The painkillers were stopping the pain but with each dose they gave me, I was that much closer to dying. After they stabilized me, and I was moderately coherent, they gave me the red button back. I asked them who kept telling me to breathe while I was under. I couldn’t get her voice, or her hazy image out of my mind. The doctors and nurses told me they were the only ones with me, the entire time. I told them that I both saw and heard her. They just shook their heads and reaffirmed what they told me earlier.

I recovered and spent the next few years in intense cardio and post bypass rehabilitation. It was the most painful and difficult surgery I ever had. I had more surgeries during that three-year period than any other point of my life. Those surgeries made my subsequent, stenting procedures seem utterly minor, despite how risky they actually were.

I don’t know if she was real, a dream, or if God sent that angel to protect me. All I know is that it was because of her voice that I kept breathing. Every time the pain came back, it was so torturous I wanted to die. I had never wanted to die before. However, any option was preferable to that pain. Whoever she was, she was my angel and a chapter of love like none other. She was pure love. When I was under, I could only feel two extremes. It was almost as if heaven and hell were battling over my soul. Six weeks later, as I was being rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair, I saw her again. She was peeking out at me from behind a column and smiling. It was my angel. No one could tell me who she was, even though I asked everyone when I went back to thank the nurses who took care of me.

Whomever, or whatever, she was…real, my imagination, or a messenger from heaven… she saved my life. Nurses are God’s angels on earth. I will never forget this most unique and angelic chapter of love.

 

Chapter 30 – Rebooting

She worked for one of the local vets and lived on a makeshift farm of sorts out east. She would come to my house to take care of me, my aquarium fish, my home, just about everything, with the one notable exception of my children. When my children came to dad’s house, they were always the focus of my attention. My ex was living with another man. Any chance of reconciliation was over. I was so medicated I was a just short of being a walking zombie. The surgeons had tried many times, but the arteries in my heart and around my body were failing faster than they could be repaired. My health was again deteriorating quickly and the medication that was meant to keep me safe had so many side effects I was in constant pain and tired all the time.

She was cute, shy and down to earth, a real country girl. She flirted with me every time she came to clean, organize, or help with the laundry and maintenance. I was so weak and limited I couldn’t do it myself without painkillers and I hated the way they made me feel. Often I would just lie there in bed, trying to not have a heart attack. Just walking, in the cold, from my front door to my car was life threatening. I resigned from my friend’s software company in Northport and started working for a much larger software company near Penn Station, on eighth-avenue. Getting out of my house and into the city was nearly impossible, but they were paying me a shit- load of money. Taxis and trains became my way of getting around. I walked as much as possible every day, but always with pain radiating throughout my entire body. I would go about twenty yards and then have to rest and catch my breath. She started coming more often than she was being paid to. I wasn’t paying her very much at all. She seemed to love my plethora of pets from my dog and cats, to my salt-water aquarium fish. When she was around I was much less sad. It was easier when she was with me on the days my children were at their mom’s house. No matter how badly I felt, she would make me laugh. She wore very conservative baggy sweat pants and sweatshirts every time she came to my home and although she was very pretty she hid her body quite well.

She worked for one of the local vets and lived on a makeshift farm of sorts out east. She would come to my house to take care of me, my aquarium fish, my home, just about everything, with the one notable exception of my children. When my children came to dad’s house, they were always the focus of my attention. My ex was living with another man. Any chance of reconciliation was over. I was so medicated I was a just short of being a walking zombie. The surgeons had tried many times, but the arteries in my heart and around my body were failing faster than they could be repaired. My health was again deteriorating quickly and the medication that was meant to keep me safe had so many side effects I was in constant pain and tired all the time.

She was cute, shy and down to earth, a real country girl. She flirted with me every time she came to clean, organize, or help with the laundry and maintenance. I was so weak and limited I couldn’t do it myself without painkillers and I hated the way they made me feel. Often I would just lie there in bed, trying to not have a heart attack. Just walking, in the cold, from my front door to my car was life threatening. I resigned from my friend’s software company in Northport and started working for a much larger software company near Penn Station, on eighth-avenue. Getting out of my house and into the city was nearly impossible, but they were paying me a shit- load of money. Taxis and trains became my way of getting around. I walked as much as possible every day, but always with pain radiating throughout my entire body. I would go about twenty yards and then have to rest and catch my breath. She started coming more often than she was being paid to. I wasn’t paying her very much at all. She seemed to love my plethora of pets from my dog and cats, to my salt-water aquarium fish. When she was around I was much less sad. It was easier when she was with me on the days my children were at their mom’s house. No matter how badly I felt, she would make me laugh. She wore very conservative baggy sweat pants and sweatshirts every time she came to my home and although she was very pretty she hid her body quite well.

One night I invited her to stay for dinner. She accepted and then left for a few hours, which seemed strange. A few hours later she returned, all decked out. It was as if she was another woman . She was gorgeous. It was obvious she was looking at my dinner invite as a real date, as opposed to a casual dinner invitation from a friend. It had been quite a while since my divorce. I still saw my former wife even though I would have preferred not to. We had to see each other as we shared custody of our two children. At this point we rarely argued or even spoke other than a polite hello, or to discuss matters concerning our children. There was not even a hint of love, affection, or emotion from her. Frankly, I became a happier man without her. Maybe she realized long before I did that we were not really meant for each other, or that our chapter of love was over. I have since learned and share with everyone who is hurting, that chapters of love have an organic beginning and an organic end. There is no way to change it, no matter how much you love a person.

I prepared a gourmet dinner for my nanny dinner date, as I did for most of my family and children as often as I could. We had a candlelight dinner in front of the fireplace. After dinner and a few drinks, we laid on the floor facing each other and started to talk about relationships and sex. She was also hurting from a recently ended relationship. That was why she was coming to see me so often. It was not because she was being charitable and felt sorry for me, but because she was escaping her own heartbreak and found it easier to get through it with me in her life.

It did not take long for us to start kissing. It was a very gentle and rather quick love affair. We held each other all night. I could not help but think about my wife and all the times we made love in front of that same fireplace. Shortly after what was a very heartfelt, but for me a kind of sad interaction, we fell asleep. When we woke the next morning, my ex was dropping off our children. Again, she must have known that I was with someone, as she came into the house for the first time since our divorce. My pet-sitter/friend was very embarrassed and bolted out the side door. That was the last time I was to see her for years. I had no idea why she disappeared. I called her often, but she was missing in action. She was the first real chapter of love after my divorce and although it was short, it was healing. She gave me hope that over time, I myself might heal as well.

I believe her friendship and love saved my life. Several years later, when my dog ran off and was brought to the pound, I saw her again. She was working there. She was long over her breakup. I was in a better place too, so we hooked-up right there at the pound, to the sound of dogs howling. By the way, she recognized my dog when he was brought in, but waited until I showed up to say anything. More or less I truly believe she was extremely excited to see me.

A few months later I could tell she was getting very attached to me. I made it clear that I would never get married again. I told her I was dedicating my life to my children. I did not have the heart to tell her that I was so sick I couldn’t work any longer and was on disability, literally waiting to die. I thought when we hooked-up I was going to have a heart attack right there. She not only rebooted my heart the first time but did it again, in a moment of passion. I don’t know what came over us. It was just one of those moments. I left with my dog and went back home, hoping that somehow, some doctor would find a way to make the pain go away. It would be many years before I had a chance for a medical breakthrough. I knew I had to walk every day no matter how painful and lonely my walks were. I did them many times a day, one step at a time and one photograph at a time. It was lonely and so very boring. My children were my constant inspiration. I was so grateful to have them.

I was on disability for six months and was ready to shoot myself. It was one of the most dangerous, yet boring, times of my life. To top it off, I was having negative reactions to the massive dosages of statins I had been taking for years. I was having short-term memory loss. No one knew if it was from the long-term use of painkillers, the actual pain, or the statins themselves. I was simply not able to function in a corporate environment anymore. I knew things were coming to an end when I blacked out during a boardroom presentation. Momentarily, I lost my sight and hearing. I had no idea where I was. I was told later it might have been the meds I took to perform better in bed or a micro stroke. I was in Syracuse when it happened. I flew back to NYC and resigned. I told my boss I couldn’t concentrate and that the cause was something much worse than my broken heart. Something was wrong with my memory. As it turned out the ringing in my ears and dizziness was just the beginning. Months later I went in for another life and death surgery. It was moderately successful, giving me back more functionality than I had in years, but I was still in pain.

While walking, I was taking photographs again, of most anyone I saw. Especially, when I was walking in the city. There were so many interesting people and so much great architecture. I was fortunate to be alive. I started my new chapter of health by taking myself off disability, against the doctors and surgeons recommendations. I went to work as an event photographer at one of the largest studios in the Northeast. I was back to working in the arts. Photography started to change my life, as it did when I was a teenager. I started photographing events anonymously for one of the largest and most expensive photo studios in the country. The owner of the company was injured. He needed someone with real talent to justify his ten-thousand dollars per day rate. After a while, I was photographing all the events he had booked himself for. Since we were both John, no one knew better. My photographs were highly praised and my life rebooted. For the first time since my divorce, I was happy, even though I was still hurting.

I put myself on an online dating service. It was as if the floodgates opened. Older women, younger women and very beautiful single moms, started messaging me. I was shocked that women would be so forward as to ask me out, but they did. Although my health had improved, I was still very ill. But, if I had my painkillers, I could get by. My first online match was a very beautiful woman from Queens. She drove to my house to have dinner with me on our first date. This was NOT something I would recommend to anyone for a first, singles site, date.

I was not into going out much as my life still focused on being a Mr. Mom. Every time I shot an event, it was like being at a party, despite the grueling physical challenges, which was enough entertainment for anyone. Her name was Patty. I will never forget her. We had a romantic dinner. Before I knew it, we were in my bedroom. We were all over each other. It had been many years since I was with another woman other than my nanny. With all the meds I was on, I was lucky to be able to get it up. But this was different. I was temporarily in a much better place, both emotionally and physically, despite my constant memory problems. The painkillers were helping me walk and do much more. We went at it all night and into the next morning.

When my ex-wife dropped off my children, they were very surprised to see that I had a girl at the house. We all went to the beach and played baseball, a sport I rarely if ever played, other than when I was a kid. She just happened to have her bat and glove in the car. For those few hours, we were a family. I could tell that my children were happy to see me happy and with someone. They immediately got attached to her, but I didn’t want to complicate their lives with another woman. After a few dates, I pulled the plug on the relationship, but not because of them. My health was too unstable and I didn’t want to put another woman through what ultimately made my former wife have a nervous breakdown.

I was still very confused, but my heart had rebooted. Later that day we said our goodbyes. After a while we stopped seeing each other. I continued to shoot events for almost a year, until I started to get dizzy again and faint at events. I knew that despite the short period of “fantasy-health,” I was no better off than when I went on disability. I was relying on painkillers to get through the day. Rebooted or not, I had to find a way to get better. I survived so many life and death moments and I wanted more life. So, I resigned from the studio and started walking again, all day and night, trying desperately to grow new arteries. I reopened my photography studio and shot one wedding a month. The rest of my time was spent walking, or with my children, or photographing everything in my path. As I had years before, I had to give up everything I worked for to continue to ensure I would be here for my children. It was lonely and painful to walk alone the entire day. I started to feel as if I was walking even when I was not, as if my life had become a never-ending treadmill of things just passing me by one at a time, over and over. Without photography, I don’t think I would have been able to go on. But I did and even volunteered at every charitable event I could, so I would have people to photograph and I could pay it forward to charitable causes. I had rebooted again, but at the same time was still living with significant risk.

 

Chapter 13 – Ménage A trios’

The sun had barely risen. It was a golden haze partially hidden by the morning fog. As we walked through the sea grass, the morning dew was cold and wet against our ankles. We were approaching the shoreline. The waves were lightly rolling in. They were large enough to create the beautiful white and blue highlights that compliment my swimsuit and body shots. The seagulls were flying low across the horizon. It was a typical, tranquil, sunrise on Jones Beach. I was quite young and would often shoot at the fields I grew up on, field 3 and 4, sometimes the West End and Robert Moses. She was a native Long Islander. Despite the fact I was now living in New York City, I continued filming on the beaches, as I have most of my life.

I was not making a lot of money as a photographer, but I was making a living and meeting women from all over the world. It was unusual that this model was from Long Island. She was gorgeous, very sculptured and European looking. She was a tall blonde. For a model, she was exceptionally well endowed. When she took off her top, it became evident as to how curvaceous she truly was.. She was a teen model who just turned eighteen. I was only a few years older. I had shot hundreds of models, but I had never photographed anyone with breasts of that size. Most models were considerably less well endowed.

I never understood why models loved to get naked when we shot. Later, I learned that they are just as free spirited as I am. For them, it made the shoot more fun and fulfilling. Despite what people might think, every one of my chapters of love was a beautiful experience, even the ones that began quickly after meeting. I never judged any of the women I was with, at least I tried not to. My father once told me, “For every willing guy there is always a willing girl. What makes you think women are any different than us?” He was right, but I was still very naïve when it came to women, what they wanted and what they were willing to do to get it. This was despite my obsessive sexual appetite.

The sun had barely risen. It was a golden haze partially hidden by the morning fog. As we walked through the sea grass, the morning dew was cold and wet against our ankles. We were approaching the shoreline. The waves were lightly rolling in. They were large enough to create the beautiful white and blue highlights that compliment my swimsuit and body shots. The seagulls were flying low across the horizon. It was a typical, tranquil, sunrise on Jones Beach. I was quite young and would often shoot at the fields I grew up on, field 3 and 4, sometimes the West End and Robert Moses. She was a native Long Islander. Despite the fact I was now living in New York City, I continued filming on the beaches, as I have most of my life.

I was not making a lot of money as a photographer, but I was making a living and meeting women from all over the world. It was unusual that this model was from Long Island. She was gorgeous, very sculptured and European looking. She was a tall blonde. For a model, she was exceptionally well endowed. When she took off her top, it became evident as to how curvaceous she truly was.. She was a teen model who just turned eighteen. I was only a few years older. I had shot hundreds of models, but I had never photographed anyone with breasts of that size. Most models were considerably less well endowed.

I never understood why models loved to get naked when we shot. Later, I learned that they are just as free spirited as I am. For them, it made the shoot more fun and fulfilling. Despite what people might think, every one of my chapters of love was a beautiful experience, even the ones that began quickly after meeting. I never judged any of the women I was with, at least I tried not to. My father once told me, “For every willing guy there is always a willing girl. What makes you think women are any different than us?” He was right, but I was still very naïve when it came to women, what they wanted and what they were willing to do to get it. This was despite my obsessive sexual appetite.

As the sun rose higher and higher, we started to get tired. It was about an hour or two after sunrise. We had been shooting for hours. We were near a lifeguard stand. I liked to use them as props and it also allowed me to shoot from the God point of view, almost directly above a subject. As usual, I brought a bottle of champagne. Champagne was a great prop that would never go to waste.

We started drinking directly from the bottle before it was even eight in the morning. We laughed and said it was noon somewhere. Soon those tiny beach flies materialized out of nowhere, millions of them and they were biting us. They have a nasty bite. It was getting worse and worse, so we took a sheet and covered ourselves. After the champagne, she attacked me. I thought she was an innocent young lady. Maybe, she was. She told me she was with her boyfriend for almost seven years and never had an orgasm. And now, she wanted one.

We started going at it and she had plenty of orgasms. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she may have been the most orgasmic partner I have ever been with. After about an hour of non-stop pumping and cuming, I suggested that we take a nap. I was dead tired. She agreed. She lay in my arms and we fell asleep with the sheet still covering us. I woke with my penis inside her mouth. She was trying to get me going again, but I was so tired. After a while I was ready. She rolled on top of me, inserted me inside her and started to grind. We were both sweating and came together. This time she really came. She started to scream. She grinded and milked every ounce of cum out of me she could.

She was dripping sweat onto my chest. It was hot, so she threw the sheet off us to get some air, bugs or no bugs. As she did, we realized that we had fallen asleep for several hours and there were thousands of people around us. Everyone saw the entire event, even the lifeguards who were only a few feet away. They were watching us while we were under the sheets. When she threw the sheet off we were completely naked. We couldn’t believe that we didn’t hear the crowd around us, but we were in our own world. While it excited her, she wanted to leave the beach immediately. She was so embarrassed. We drove to a local bar and had raw oysters and a few beers. The drinking age was eighteen back then and it seemed like the thing to do. Neither of us was of a mindset to continue the shoot, plus the sun was too strong and the angle too high. I figured we would have lunch and shoot at sunset. She had a different plan. Of this, I was unaware.

She dropped her swimsuit bottoms at the bar without me seeing and suggested that we play a game of pool. When the bartender was busy stocking the bar, she bent over the pool table to show me show me what was, or in this case, wasn’t under her short skirt. Before I knew it, we were at it again, this time at the side of a pool table in a bar. It was dark for a bar. There were no windows, just faint light emanating from the entrance and a dirty bulb over the pool table. She started to scream. The bartender came up from the basement to see what was going on. As he got to the top he saw my gestures to get lost. You should have seen the look in his face when he spotted her amazing breasts. He was very cool about the whole thing. He knew me, as I had been to this bar many times before. When we were done, she wanted more but I couldn’t perform. I was raw and tired. Every muscle in my body ached. She had worked me all morning and rode me all afternoon. I was shot. The shy innocent girl who showed up for the shoot was, in reality, a firecracker, maybe much more. When I refused to do it again she took off her shirt and sat at the bar. We were the only two people in the bar except for the bartender. He was loving it. I didn’t really know her, but I was getting jealous. I had already assumed that we were going to become boyfriend and girlfriend, or at least something more than how we started out.

She was trying to coerce me into doing it again. She said she was going to screw the bartender if I didn’t. I refused and shortly afterwards we left, but she was angry. We went to shoot at the relatively new EAB plaza in Uniondale. Fifteen minutes later she was going down on me. When I again refused, she got upset. I asked her how many times did she think I could do it. Her feeling was, she waited years for the right guy. When they did it, it was lousy. I was going to be fortunate enough to get it. But, she was insatiable.

I wanted it as often as possible as well. But, a man can only do so much before he can’t go any more. Her break-up was just a day or two before, so she wanted it again and again. She decided before the shoot that she was going to have me. I didn’t know what to do, so I took her back to my apartment. On the way, I left messages for two of my friends to call me after they got off from work. I invited them over to meet my new friend. It seemed as if they got to my apartment before we even hung up the phone. One of my friends put on a suit and tie. It was hilarious. By this time, I knew she was a nymphomaniac. I was never going to be able to keep up with her so I invited them to help. My message was “I’m with a super-hot model. I can’t handle her. Please take a shower and meet me at my apartment.”

They arrived separately. As each knocked on the door she greeted them nude with a juicy kiss. Five seconds later they were all over her. She refused to do anything unless I was in bed also, so I joined them. One of my friends was going down on her. I thought to myself, if he only knew how many loads I dropped into her. Then one moved up to her breasts and was sort of motor boating with his lips. My other friend went down on her and was sucking on her vagina in the weirdest way. I could barely keep from laughing, even when she went down on me, as I was standing by the side of the bed.

It was just too funny for a young man like myself. They were going to have sex with her at the same time. It was too dirty for me. I had no interest in doing it again, especially not in the presence of two of my friends. I was raw and hurting from all the earlier sex. Even my tongue and mouth were sore, as I went down on her for hours over the course of the morning and afternoon. With that I burst out laughing and left the room. They were both with her all evening. They thought I was the man. Of course, I never had the heart to tell them what had transpired earlier that day. The next day, I bought each of them a bottle of strong mouthwash.

They looked at me strangely. I simply said, “don’t ask, just use it liberally.” I did see her many times over the years but she became markedly more conservative. Even when I saw her at Penn Station once or twice over the years I never said anything about that crazy day at the beach. I could tell she appreciated the confidential way I kept my chapters of love. I was only too happy to see that her modeling career was taking off and she was working consistently. For years I saw my photographs on her comp card. That short chapter of love was very satisfying in many ways, both creatively and passionately. Of course my two high school buddies always thought I was the man because of that one day they hooked up with a beautiful model because of me. It would not be the last time I introduced my friends, even my friends with benefits.

 

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