Supreme Story Program

The truth is I can’t remember his name. This happens to me a lot when I try to remember old boyfriends (or old co-workers, classmates, etc.) I referred to him as The Fatso to my friends at the time I ‘dated’ him. We met at a disco/bar in the late 1970s on Diversey in Chicago. He was quite a fast-talking charmer and despite his “fatness” I was immediately taken with him. It turned out he owned/ran a disco nearby on Clark Street and we hung out there a lot. He seemed to have a lot things going on (which turned out to be a live-in girlfriend/wife and several businesses). We went out for steaks, and he told me he’d like to take me to sex club (where people swap partners). I think he honed in on my insecurities, was consistently able to unnerve me and in retrospect I realize he had a cruel streak and simply amused himself by trying to humiliate me. Once he left me waiting in his car for so long I got bored and found an envelope of photos of him that looked like they were taken after a minor accident. I left them out and took a bus home (he was furious I had looked at the pix). He kept asking me about one of my (quite beautiful) friends and amazingly hit on my best friend. I was so deluded I actually believed his side of it at first, until I came to my senses, and stopped seing him.  A few months later he called me and caught me in a great sarcastic mood – to this day I’m thrilled I was able to brush him off so lightly – I could tell he was totally surprised by my attitude. The fact that I can’t remember his name is telling. He was just a waste of time.