Tara Dendy is my ex-wife. In this entry, I will talk about that period of time when she was my girlfriend. Her name back then was Tara Black. The “Dendy” comes from her second husband, whom she married and divorced from after me. I met Tara while attending Utah Valley Community College.
UVCC was a college where a lot of Brigham Young University students went during the summer to get their general education credits. It was smart to do this, as UVCC was cheaper than BYU and the classes were much smaller, leading to a better education. I was one such student that attended UVCC for the summer, having already begun my college education at BYU the previous year. Tara was one of those few students who didn’t fit into this category.
Tara had attended BYU for a semester, but was expelled from the school. According to her, she was expelled because her roommate was smoking marijuana and Tara knew about it, but didn’t report it. I know, it sounds fishy, but I believed that story for many years. Now, after hearing numerous false stories from Tara over the years, I suspect she was probably kicked out of BYU because they caught her with drugs, too. Regardless, she was at UVCC serving a probationary period, hoping that she could return to BYU after receiving a recommendation from a Church authority. She never got that recommendation and ended up dropping out of school completely. To her credit, Tara returned to college at another university years later, to earn a teaching degree.
While attending UVCC, I lived in an apartment complex, the same complex where Tara was living. I had a roommate named Bobby Ray McAllister who, mentally, had never made it past his days in Vietnam. A few of his mental quirks included going without sleep for five or six days in a row and then sleeping for that same amount of time, sudden outbursts of anger, kleptomania, and a feeling of superiority over all. One would think these mental disorders would have harmed him with the ladies, but he was a “chick magnet”. Women were intrigued by his eccentric personality. He looked a lot like and acted a bit like Gary Busey.
Bobby Ray saw a girl one day that he thought was attractive. So, as was his style, he approached her directly and asked her over to our place that evening, to get better acquainted. Because he had fought in Vietnam and spent some time in a mental institution and let everyone know these two things, Bobby Ray was very intriguing to the Mormon-raised girls of the area. They had never experienced anyone quite like him. Some girls, as was the girl Bobby Ray approached that day, were a bit rebellious of their strong fundamental upbringing. Finding themselves out from under their parents’ tutelage, at college, they tended to go against what they had been taught growing up. Such was the case with the girl Bobby Ray approached that day, as she accepted his invitation. It turned out that she was one of Tara’s roommates. Because she wasn’t entirely stupid, she asked Bobby Ray if her roommate, Tara, could come along. He said that it would be fine.
The entire afternoon that day Bobby Ray wouldn’t stop talking about the girl he had met, who was coming over to our place that evening. He even tried to get me to help him write a song for her. I use the phrase “help him” loosely, because Bobby Ray couldn’t write a decent song to save his life. I’m not saying that I could, ether. I’ve written a few songs and they’re not that great. But, unlike Bobby Ray’s attempts at song writing, mine were completed. He had a wandering thought process and could never finish anything he started. Simply put, Bobby Ray was a mess. Maybe that is what really made him appealing to the girls. Maybe they felt that they could change him.
I didn’t believe that the girl Bobby Ray invited to our apartment that night would actually show up, but she did. I guess she wasn’t entirely stupid, as she brought along a friend.
A few days before this, I had bought a Fisher entertainment center from ZCMI department store. I know, a cheap brand, but it wasn’t to me at the time. It was the first purchase I had made on credit. There would be many more such purchases in the next few years, until I finally realized that buying things on credit can, and did in my case, lead to serious financial troubles. Anyhow, the friend of Bobby Ray’s love interest was impressed by the setup. She later revealed to me that she thought I had a lot of money, because of it.
Top Gun was the first affordable video cassette released to the public. At $19.95 a piece, they were selling like hotcakes. I had purchased one that day and had just begun to watch it when the two girls showed up.
Bobby Ray asked the girl he had met that day if she wanted “the grand tour” of our apartment. She nodded affirmatively. It was an obvious rouse to get her back into his bedroom, as their apartment was identical to ours, so there would be little purpose in showing her around. The two of them made a quick pass by the kitchen and then made a bee line to Bobby Ray’s bedroom. The door quickly shut behind them and I never saw them again that night.
I was left with “the friend”. After I made some popcorn, we watched Top Gun. The best part of the movie, as I recall, was the surround sound of the jets as they seemingly flew past us. Outside of a movie theater, I had never experienced that 3-D audio effect before. I was very impressed with the home entertainment center I had bought. “The friend” was equally impressed with it, as she seemed to be glued to the TV screen.
I took a few seconds to look the girl over. Her hair was light blonde, the kind of color many girls can only get from a bottle. I learned later that her hair color was actually natural. For years to come, it would serve me well as a guiding beacon when I returned with refreshments to a dark movie theater.
The girl was dressed in black, all black, with fishnet nylons beneath her mini skirt and thigh-high boots. She had pasty-white skin, with large patches of black mascara around her eyes. I remember thinking how she resembled a raccoon. Still, I was very much attracted to her.
When she laughed at the funny parts in the movie, her entire body shook and strands of her long curly blond hair fell in front of her face. I was in total lust after this girl. However, there was the issue of my recent commitment to stay clear of premarital sex and this girl had trouble in that area written all over her. I decided that I wouldn’t amount to much if I followed every temptation that came my way. So, I went back to watching the movie.
I noticed from the corner of my eye that she was checking me out, just as I had done with her. I wondered what she was thinking, as she scanned me from head to toe. I didn’t have to wonder long, as she asked me, “Wanna go to my place?” “Sure!” I responded, forgetting immediately about my newfound moral conviction.
I won’t go into the details of what took place in her apartment. I feel that I have been way too explicit in other entries already. Besides, I cannot see how specifically relating the happenings of that night would serve any purpose. I will say that we quickly made our way to the girl’s bedroom and had sex. The girl must have known she would be loud, as she turned up her bedside AM radio beforehand. Little good that did, as she was a screamer. In fact, she was so loud that someone must have called the apartment manager, as he showed up knocking on her door.
The apartment complex had a rule that no boys could be in a girl’s apartment (or vice-versa) after a certain hour. It was well past that “certain hour” and I had to quickly dress and escape from her apartment by jumping out her bedroom window. She lived on the second floor and I remember hurting my leg when I jumped from the window. I hobbled back to my apartment and went to bed.
A few days later, I was sitting on some stairs outside of my apartment, reading a book, my leg still sore. A blue Camero entered the apartment complex’s parking lot and stopped. From afar, I watched as a beautiful tall platinum blonde got out of it. Then I realized it was the girl I had had sex with a few nights before. She wasn’t dressed so sluttish in the daytime. Still, she wore the raccoon-patch makeup.
I was curious about something, so I got up and approached her. As I neared her, she smiled. “Remember me from the other night?” I asked. She laughed, letting some of those blonde curls flop over her face, “Of course I do.” “I was wondering something,” I continued, making direct eye contact with her, “What’s your name?” “Tara,” She replied, “What’s yours?” “BB,” I said and then proceeded to ask her out on our first date, a picnic in a nearby canyon, sans sex.