April 22, 2014 by genelup
I was on top of my game the first part of 1967.
At 29, I had a plush job as a writer in the public relations department at International Minerals & Chemical Corporation in Skokie, a northern Chicago suburb.
I lived the high life in a bachelor’s pad off Chicago’s Rush Street nightclub scene. I had lots of friends, and was invited to lots of parties. We singles even celebrated Thanksgiving together; about 12 of us having a humongous dinner together. We were “Friends” before “Friends” ever became popular on television.
I even dated an American Airlines stewardess, and I was well on my way to having the “good life.”
Then, about mid to late summer of 1967, my world puked on me. I asked my stewardess girlfriend to marry me. She said, “No.” Basically, I wasn’t good enough for her.
I moved out of my bachelor’s pad and rented a tiny apartment a few miles away from the nightlife scene. I didn’t want to face my “friends.” I was demolished. My self-esteem collapsed. I hit the B & Bs pretty hard – that is the bottle and bars.
A couple months later, my boss called me into his office. I was fired. Actually, he said, I was laid off because the company was downsizing.
More B & Bs.
I delivered pizzas, and tried to sell Electrolux vacuum cleaners door-to-door. I moved back to Phoenix to live with my parents. Almost 30 and I lived with Mommy and Daddy. I went on unemployment. All I could find was a one-week job playing Santa Claus at a daycare center. I had to wear two pillows to look fat. When the parents arrived to pick up their kids, I greeted their little darlings on the patio. One boy kicked me in the shins, and another boy told me he wanted a gun for Christmas so he could shoot me.
My life shattered. I finally said to “hell with it all”, took my life savings, and headed for Europe. — From my book “My Life Shattered then it got worse, until…”