I Dated Captain Ron for Three Years



For those of you who know the story, this is not a picture of him.  It’s a picture of Captain Ron from the movie of the same name.  Uncanny resemblance, right?


You may ask why the (at the time) darling of Ponte Vedra would fall for a jobless, penniless bounder who crucified the English language around a chain of Lucky Strike cigarettes.  You got me.  I lived in a big house in Marsh Landing and he lived on a dissipated boat, chained to the Beaches Marina Dock for non-payment.


I drank white wine. He drank a case of beer before lunchtime.  It was chased by enough morphine to KILL a lesser human, in an attempt to  deaden the phantom pain that plagued his self styled “broke back”.  I had a charming, well educated group of family and friends.  He had an extended clan of trailer-trash pickpockets.


I served on several Boards of Director, he caught alligators with his bare hands.  I had money.  He spent it.


There’s an old country song that laments, “Cigareeets, and whiskey and wild, wild women – they’ll drive you crazy – they’ll drive you INSANE.”  Substitute: “white wine” and “men” and add “to the poor house” and you’ll have the makings of my theme song.  At THAT time.  When I was drinking…

Today I’m not drinking, because even though I still think he’s cute, Captain Ron is not a good choice for a life partner…

How come you’re not drinking?