A Yellow Rose

Be forewarned, this entry contains words of a sexually explicit nature. If such things offend you, I advise against reading it.

This entry is extremely difficult for me to write, as I have to come to terms with my feelings both now and at the time of these events. I do not want to leave anyone with the impression that Cindy, Marci, and Z were terrible people. On the contrary, they were all very good people. My weaknesses far outweighed theirs. And, I’m certain that they still do. The point is that the best of the best and the worst of the worst tend to be the things remembered about people. All of the other stuff is forgotten with time. This entry is no different. The minutia surrounding these experiences is certainly important, but it must be left to the imagination. This entry is being made several years after the events and many of the intricacies have been forgotten. It is important that this entry, and others of its kind, be read with this in mind.

Cindy Ladle was a girl that I dated for a few months while attending college at Brigham Young University. I met her through my roommate at BYU, Ramon Zabriskie. He had also served as my first companion on my Mormon mission to Brazil in 1984. Z, as he was called, dated Marci Ladle, Cindy’s older sister. Cindy was to begin school at BYU and Z suggested that I befriend her, as she didn’t know anyone at the school. Cindy was coming from Houston, Texas, where she had grown up in an upper middle-class household in the suburbs.

I remember my first impression of Cindy was quite good. She was a cute vibrant young redhead who was a great conversationalist. I felt that Cindy had a good sense about her and possessed wisdom far above her young age. Notwithstanding, I had the impression that her older sister Marci didn’t share my opinion. Marci possessed a mildly demeaning nature towards Cindy, as older sisters often do regarding their younger siblings.

In fact, Marci was demeaning to everyone around her. She would say the most terrible things to people and then cover it up with a laugh, as if she was joking. I don’t know if she was aware that her comments were hurting people emotionally. I believe that people like her, and I have met several since, just figure they’re being humorous. They think that the things they are saying are considered sarcastic, but they don’t know the meaning of sarcasm. The things they are saying are their negative feelings of others. What they are doing is what everyone with low self esteem does, try to lower everyone to their level so that they can feel better about themselves, albeit in a superficial manner. Z expressed his feelings of victimization to me on numerous occasions, but felt that she would eventually get better. I hope she did. I hope that Marci realized later on that her actions were hurting others, though I doubt it. Even Z, who married her, cowered down to her degrading remarks. Sadly, I didn’t see anything then that would alter her behavior, so I have to believe she continued cutting others down. I am to blame also, for I did nothing to curb her behavior. I simply was grateful that I didn’t have to go through what Z did.

Cindy expressed some resentment for Marci also. At first, I found myself justifying Marci’s actions, because I felt that it was just harmless sibling rivalry. However, I felt a bit uncomfortable doing this, as I wasn’t completely certain that the negative atmosphere between the sisters wasn’t having a more long-term effect upon Cindy’s self esteem. Often, family members mean well by voicing their criticisms of other in the family, but they unintentionally cause more harm than good. Such may have been the case with Cindy and Marci, for I noticed that Cindy wasn’t as strong-willed around her sister as when she was away from her.

As I make this entry, I am reminded of the utterly undeniable necessity to be honest, completely honest. I believe that complete honesty comes through telling all of the truth. Often, people try to pass off the withholding of truth as tact, but it is really dishonesty, plain and simple. I had my fill of that kind of “tact” while working in customer service for over a decade. My job was to make people feel happy by not telling them anything that could be upsetting to them. Apparently, ignorance is bliss is the credo of good customer service. I felt that by living up to this kind of customer service I was doing a disservice to my fellow human being. I left that life in pursuit of one that would allow me to not withhold the truth.

So, I befriended Cindy as my friend Z wanted. We all started hanging out together, Z, Marci, Cindy, and I. It wasn’t long before Cindy and I developed a romance. On the exterior, Cindy was as hard as nails, much like her sister. Intimately, she was as acquiescent as any girl I’ve ever been involved with. Our relationship quickly grew into an extremely passionate one, setting the stage for a future relationship I would have with my first wife.

Also, Cindy was very romantic. She loved receiving frequent small gifts and going out to nice quant places. I made certain to buy her a rose for each date I took her on. Furthermore, Cindy’s wardrobe was comprised of articles that were demonstrably feminine, unlike most girls of her age who wore a-sexual clothes. Her bedroom was decorated with tiny knickknacks and smelled of floral scents. Being someone who has a heightened sense of smell, that is one of the things I loved about Cindy, her smell.

Along with smell goes taste and Cindy certainly tasted good. I don’t know what she ate or what kind of soap she used, but she had a sweet flavor, from head to toe.

I remember one sexual encounter with her while staying at her parents’ house in Houston, Texas. Time has clouded my memory a bit and I cannot remember why I was there. I am inclined to believe that it was for the wedding of Z and Marci, as I was Z’s best man. However, I may have just been visiting Cindy during a school break. I vividly remember a romantic session with her one evening after her family went to bed upstairs. We were left alone in the living room on the ground floor. I remember that night because it was such an exciting experience. It was reminiscent of my make-out sessions with Taryn Schofield years before, within arms length of her sleeping parents.

Cindy and I weren’t quite that close to her parents. However, they were sleeping on the second floor, directly above us, and Cindy was in a much more vulnerable position than Taryn had been, lying completely nude in the middle of the room with my head buried between her legs. My enjoyment of going down on her would have been short-lived had her father, a deeply religious Mormon, woken up to find us there. I hate to speculate what would have happened then. Luckily, it didn’t and I enjoyed giving Cindy oral sex right there in the room where her family had often congregated, perhaps to read scriptures or even pray together. It was a shameless conquest for me, remembered always due to two unforgettable things – the excitement of feeling we could have been caught and the sweet flavor of Cindy Ladle.

I don’t remember how Cindy and I broke up. I believe it had something to do with Cindy not attending school year-round, as I was doing. For some reason, unknown to me now, she was in Houston when we broke up. Fragments of memory lead me to believe that there was another love interest in her life, in Houston. Regardless of what the details were, it was an amicable breakup. A few years later, I saw her at a get-together at Z and Marci’s house in Orem, Utah. Cindy was with her new husband, a handsome young man. I was with my first wife, Tara. My impression was that married life had taken a toll on her, as she wasn’t as bubbly and vibrant as before and she had put on a lot of weight. She may have been going through a rough period. We exchanged polite conversation during the get-together. I never saw her again. However, I will always remember her favorite phrases – “Golly Wally!” (an exclamation of surprise) and “Yeppers!” (an afirmative answer).

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