This story contains some strong language, so if you are easily offended, please do not read. The dialogue is more or less exactly as it occurred, and I feel it’s important to portray the girl featured as accurately as possible as she was truly unique.
Glasses and girls have always gone together for me. They both begin with “G” to start with, so that’s good! There are many many other things that relate the two in my mind, and I have been lucky enough to live out what would be fantasies to some, and real life experiences to me. And I continue to do so, as my awareness of certain situations turns what would be normal or uninteresting events to some people into exciting, thrilling, and dare I say it, sexy experiences to me. So far in life I have been lucky enough to have had several of these experiences with girls who have worn glasses for poor eyesight, and reached the ultimate goal in my life of marrying a beautiful myopic girl who I just love to bits! I have so many wonderful stories about my wife, both before and after marriage, and I will get around to telling them, but first I have another story of a girlfriend or two to tell. Also, I have just been told by my lovely wife that I have to decorate a room on Monday, so I’ll try to get a couple of stories posted before then. The only good thing about decorating is that I will be able to wear my strong single vision plus glasses to paint above my head around the ceiling as varifocals are no good for that job, and I can wear them all day in the house and enjoy the thrill of the magnified world rushing up at me.
This true story is about another “girl with glasses who got away”, the last one to do so. But first, a quick account of another one - a non-glasses wearer - who would have been my wife if I had anything to do with it. By my early twenties, I had broadened my horizon and would have settled for a girl without glasses for my life partner if “Miss Right” came along. She did, and I was absolutely definite that she was the one. She was gorgeous, intelligent, good career, and perfect in every way, except that she had 20/20 vision! I went out with her for a year, and we even went on holiday together. I honestly thought we were home and dry, and I was planning to pop the question when….. WHAM! She dumped me! After I recovered from the shock, I found out she was going to marry a guy who had been lurking in the background all that time. I decided to turn this around, and I looked at it as a release to find my poor-sighted life partner.
I was drowning my sorrows with my mates in a pub we frequented, and I got chatting to a regular girl there who I knew. One thing led to another, and we started seeing each other with me being totally on the rebound - never a good idea! On top of that, this girl, Fern, wasn’t a glasses wearer, and she wasn’t a beauty either, but had cute features. She was a big girl, well built, and definitely overweight but not obscenely so. She carried it well. However, she had the most bubbly addictive personality you could find. She was straight-talking, called a spade a spade, and swore like a trooper! These were her good points. The bad ones were that she didn’t care who heard her cursing - it was normal language to her, even in front of her father who was sometimes in the pub. His comments were always, “That’s my girl!” or something like that. I loved how he was so proud of his daughter. She also smoked, and she shouldn’t have as she had breathing problems because of her weight and she was often out of breath, needing two or three breaths to say a sentence. She was always sweating too, and on some people I would find that repulsive, but in a really strange weird way I found all of these things amazingly attractive and sexy, probably in an “animal attraction” way. A true woman’s smell beneath the perfume is the most attractive potion ever invented. I’ve always had a strong attraction to anything out of the norm in a girl, and Fern was a goldmine in that department, except for one thing - she didn’t need glasses. Or so I thought then. I soon found out otherwise.
We went for a lot of car runs and rambled around beaches and countryside which she loved doing. I smoked too when I was with her, and I always found it a very sensual thing to do with a girl since my schooldays. One day we got caught in a massive rain storm walking along a remote part of the coast. All we had on was sweaters and jeans, and we got wet through. We ran back to the car, and I honestly thought she was going to die. She just couldn’t get her breath, and it took her half an hour sitting in the car to recover. I was seriously scared. We drove to a nearby cafe nestling in a pinewood. It was a kind of a truck stop, and there were a few big rigs parked outside. We went up to the counter to order, and I looked up at the specials board on the wall behind the counter. “I think I’ll have a hot dog,” I said. “What do you fancy?” She screwed her eyes up, then looked at me and said, “Tell me what’s on the board, will you?” I said, “You mean you can’t see that?” “Course I fuckin’ can’t - I’m not fuckin’ Wonder Woman!” she shouted back at me. All of the truckers sitting at the tables looked up at us, and one of them gave her a round of applause. She turned round, gave a little bow, then gave him the two fingers! That was SO Fern!
We sat down at a table, and I decided to pursue this not being able to read the board thing. I said to her, “When did you last have your eyes tested?” Quick as a flash she replied, “Never. My eyes are OK. I can shoot a rabbit at 50 yards with my brother’s gun.” I continued, “Well, if you can’t read that board then I think you might definitely need glasses.” Her reply was instant. “Glasses? GLASSES? Why the fuck would I want glasses? Do you not think I’ve got enough problems the way I am without adding to them with fuckin’ glasses? Start wearing them and then you can’t do without them. No thanks!” I decided not to continue the subject and give the rest of the customers a free floor show.
We had a great summer together, and we got on so well and loved each other’s company. I never stopped worrying about her health though. I was sure she was going to have major problems by the time she was 40, if she ever reached that far. No - that was cruel! Then one evening I picked her up to go to a barn dance we had tickets for, She was very subdued. Just not her normal self. After a couple of drinks in the hall, I asked her if anything was wrong. “No. Fuck off!” That was a normal Fern reply when something was definitely wrong. I could read this girl like a book. Another drink later, I said, “You are going to tell me what’s wrong, right now, or you’re walking home.” She was silent for about a minute, and then muttered under her breath, “I’ve to get glasses.” I pretended I didn’t hear her, and asked her to repeat it. At the top of her voice she shouted, “I’VE TO GET FUCKIN’ GLASSES, OK? SATISFIED, MR. KNOW-IT-ALL?” I didn’t know what to say. I just looked at her, with her tail between her legs! For a moment I thought, ‘How the mighty have fallen.’ I put my arm around her, and she let me. I said, “When did you find that out?” She said, “Weeks ago. I can’t see the fuckin’ numbers on the buses any more. I can’t even watch fuckin’ TV. And I’m making mistakes at work ‘cos I can’t fuckin’ see what I’m doing.” She worked in a biscuit factory and was in charge of Quality Control on the production line. This really was news I didn’t want to hear, because I had done a lot of thinking and came to the conclusion that there was no future in this relationship, so I was going to end it that weekend. She said that she had to pick the glasses up the next day which was Saturday, but she had two minds not to. Then she said she’d better do it because she was trapped. Either way would be bad news for her, but she would just have to give in to it. I suggested that I went along with her for her glasses, and I arranged to pick her up the next day.
I collected her at her house at 10 am and we drove into town. We parked in a multi-storey car park and got out the car. She said, “Stop. I can’t do this. I’m not doing it. I don’t want glasses.” I tried to explain that she could get contact lenses soon, and no one would ever know. “I’d still know,” she spluttered, “and I’m not going to start sticking things inside my fuckin’ eyes. No thanks. End of story. Let’s go home.” This was getting out of hand, so I tried to calm her down. I offered her a cigarette and took one myself. We lit them, and stood while we smoked, watching cars arriving and filling up the empty parking spaces. I put my arm around her and said, “Look love, it’s not the end of the world. Look at it as the beginning of an exciting new adventure. You’ll be able to see everything crystal clear. Come on, let’s go and get them.” She knew when she was beaten, and we walked out into the street.
The optician’s shop was down a side street off the main road. There were little bistros all the way down with tables outside, and she made a dive for one of them and sat down. “I’m not going in there until I have another cigarette,” she said. I ordered two lattes and we sat in silence, smoking and drinking our coffees. I decided to break the silence. “I really worry about you Fern. I worry about your health. I think you should take better care of yourself.” Oops! She replied with a scowl, “What do you mean by that? Stop smoking?” I said, “Well, that would be a start, then maybe a bit of weight loss.” Ouch!!! Wrong thing to say! “Stop smoking? STOP FUCKIN’ SMOKING? Do you realise I started smoking to get my weight down? You should have seen me before I smoked. I was fuckin’ HUGE!” By know, we had attracted an audience amongst the other customers. I made a gesture to shush, and I whispered quietly, “And I wish you didn’t swear so much in public. Would you swear like that in front of your children?” Oops again! Totally wrong thing to say! “Children? CHILDREN? WHO THE FUCK’S GONNA GIVE ME CHILDREN? TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT ME!” I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. I just said, “Drink up. Let’s go and get your glasses.”
We went into the optician’s shop, and by now she had calmed down and was acting reasonably normal, for her! The receptionist took her name, and reached up to a pigeon hole behind her for an envelope with her name on it. She opened it and took out a pair of plain metal framed glasses. “Here we are, Fern. Let me just try them on you for fit.” Straight away I saw that she had chosen orange tinted lenses. Now tints do nothing for me. I always think that it’s cheating, and trying to fool people that you’re only wearing sunglasses and don’t need prescription glasses. I like to see the full effect of eyes behind clear lenses. Then the girl said, “Yes. They look very good on you. A little adjustment needed on the legs to stop them slipping down, and then you can go. And I think the orange tint was a good idea when Mr. Kerr found out you were colour blind. It will neutralise the severe shades to an extent, and enhance the weak ones. But if you have any problems, we are here to help. Please come back any time and we’ll help you out.” Colour blind? COLOUR BLIND? Oh, my poor Fern.
We went out into the street and walked back to the car park. Fern was very quiet. I looked at her and she suited the glasses very well. Then she grabbed my arm and said in her own inimitable way, “Hold onto me. The pavement’s in the wrong fuckin’ place - it looks fuckin’ miles away!” We climbed up the stairs to where the car was parked, and she tripped on a step going up. I won’t repeat what she said as it would have made a trooper blush! When we reached the car, we had a cigarette before going. I said to her, “What’s the number on that car over there?” I could barely read it myself. She reeled it off perfectly, and even started to read out numbers from cars further away which even I couldn’t read! “I take it the glasses are working OK then?” I ventured. She came up to me, stared at me intensely like she was going to attack me, and gave me a big kiss. “Thanks pal,” she said, “thanks for being there.” Then before I could get emotional, she gave me the two fingers!
I took her home as she was going off later that day to spend two weeks holiday at her sister’s. When she got back, I was on two weeks holiday. When I got back, I didn’t hear from her, and I didn’t contact her. All of my doubts had returned to me. I knew this was the end. Then the next time I went to the pub with my mates, there she was sitting beside a huge guy with a week’s beard on him. I was positive he was one of the truckers from that cafe. They seemed very intimate, so I just had a quick pint at the far end of the bar and left. Oh, and another thing, she didn’t have her glasses on!
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