Roxiticus Memoir: Looking Back (Engagement Rings and Sealing Wax and Other Fancy Stuff)

These days, I have been looking back at my old journals (more than 25 years worth!) for diamonds in the rough to post here on Roxiticus Desperate Housewives. My high school writing is about what I'd expect from a teenager. Since I married Rex and got me one of those diamond rings that many of the girls who attended Syracuse University with me appeared to be majoring in, my writing has taken on a more stable, less exciting quality to be expected. However, after reading some of my writing from college, I am so grossed out by my 18-to-22-year-old self that I can understand why someone might make up a whole other life for themselves and call it a "memoir." If I were to publish my memoirs, I'd just like to leave out a few embarrassing years, say 1984-1990. Not that I did anything to be ashamed of or even that I deeply regret. I just can't stand the writing style, or the large chunks of putrid content about how in love I thought I was with MoneyPenny. Only after we moved into the Nineties and I dumped him did my writing acquire a bit of an edge. Of course, during those dark single years, I started to believe that I only dated to entertain my friends afterwards. Turns out I dated to have something to write about in my Roxiticus Desperate Memoirs!

Before the solitude, my best writing came during the bouts of dissatisfaction that interrupted the embarrassing fawning. Here's a fun little piece from April 1990:

Passover with the in-laws last night was a nightmare. Uncle Sheldon put his fork into the center of the cheesecake to serve his greedy little self. Cousin Howie picked wax out of his ear and talked about his prostate. Fat Bobby suggested that I go into the kitchen and help out. Cousin Meryl brought her baby with the pierced ears. Fat Bonnie whined that I wouldn't get her a job. And MoneyPenny tried to fix the clogged drain in the kitchen sink. He was angry when I asked if we could elope. I can just see his mother accusing me of being selfish about our wedding plans… "I can't believe you have the nerve to think your happiness comes first!"

Today, I find it painful to think of how Memoir Me was fantasizing about a wedding when MoneyPenny hadn't even proposed, never mind shopping for engagement rings.

The other thing I do from time to time is Google the names of old friends and lovers….the first guy who ever French-kissed me is now a faith-healing reverend. MoneyPenny has a boring day job and plays in a band on weekends. Johnny Moneybags moved South, and probably married the Southern type of gal he was seeking back when we were together. One of the almost-blind dates I had (a high-powered investment banker I met on the train) is in jail for securities fraud. Ah, those were the days.