Over the course of my incarceration, I have been involved in countless relationships; a few of which have led to several of my horribly failed marriages. On the positive side and unlike traditional dating, you really get to know someone in the time it takes to go through the courting process, and the added waiting time between getting a marriage approved and solemnized.
It often takes over a year before you’re able to go to a trailer to consummate your marriage. It’s only then you realize you still have absolutely no idea who this person you’re married to really is. I quickly discovered it’s easy for someone to be on their best behavior sitting in a visiting room surrounded by armed guards. That just covers the women.
After several first dates, so to speak, I often pondered how was it possible I had to go back to my small cage while these insane people were able to walk free among society. In one instance, I vividly remember prior to marrying my fifth and present wife, I was set up on a blind date by an old associate of mine. This happened after wife number four simply disappeared, as though she flew through the Bermuda triangle never to be heard from again.
The morning of my visit, I shaved and put on a new shirt to meet my blind date. A slight case of the jitters in anticipation made the wait seem like forever, but at 9 am on the dot off I go. As protocol dictates, after being frisked the officer in the visit room directs you to your assigned table. This makes life a little easier since I’ve never seen this person before.
I looked towards the table and unlike the shapely redhead I spoke to on the phone and was expecting, it appeared as though her aging mother had taken her place. I walked over and she quickly stood to greet me. She was a short women who was an even five feet tall and as round as she was high. She had short badly dyed hair with a widows peak that somehow gave off an overpowering odor like the pine tree air fresheners that hang from your car mirror.