Meeting Mike

On December 21^st, 1996 I married Michael Carl Liberto, in a back yard in Bossier City.  My mother walked me down the aisle and whispered in my ear, “You can still get out of this.  It’s easier to get in a marriage then get out of it.”  All that did was harden my resolve to prove her wrong and to fix him. 

Michael and I had met on December 31^st, 1994, New Years Eve, in Saint Louis, Missouri.  We were both attending an Ecumenical Campus Ministry conference.  There were several thousand in attendance. 

Now a Campus Ministry, for those of you who don’t know, is kind of a throwback to years past.  Campus Ministries are organizations that are usually located just outside the fiscal boundary of a university.  Most of the time a block or two over, within easy walking distance of the campus.  They are outposts of most large church denominations, Baptist, United Methodist, Catholic, Pentecostal, etc.  Hell, I hear Harvard even has an Atheist one now. These ministries care for students spiritual needs.  They provide activities, like movie night, bible studies, church services, a quiet place to study and usually a free meal at least once during the week.  Although Campus Ministry is dying and underfunded I most places, Mike and I were heavily involved in them. 

We had not met until the last night of the conference at the big dinner and New Years Eve dance.  The feller I was supposed to go with bailed on me.  I was there with a group from the University of South Louisiana (USL) in Lafayette, He with a group from Northwestern State University (NSU) in Natchitoches.  There was no room for me at the USL table so I went to sit with the people from NSU.  I was looking good and smelling fine.  I had just bought some new vanilla oil perfume that day.  I took a seat between Mike and his roommate.  Now his roommate was cute and I was chatting him up.  Whatever I would say Mike would interject something.  I was trying to explain to the table that my mom was attending NSU and when I said she looked just like me.  Mike says, “Then by god she must be beautiful.”  Well that got my attention.  He kept saying, “Where are the cookies?   I smell cookies.”  We finally figured out it was my perfume.  It got such a rise out of him, that I continued to wear it most of our marriage. 

I don’t remember a lot of what happened after that.  I know that Mike and I stood outside the ballroom and danced for a while.  He had a hard on for me.  That was the first time I had ever felt that on a guy.  That was the first time, that I know of, I had caused one in a man. 

Now I was raised under a rock.  I was 18 and still a virgin.  I was 180lb and believe I would never marry, because I was too fat and ugly.  I’d never seen an erect penis much less been the cause of one.  Now let’s be clear, Mike at least kept it in his pants, that night.  I spent the 16 hour van ride home to Louisiana asking the 4 fellows I had come with what that hard thing was in Mike’s pants and what did it mean.  Conclusion, he liked me.  I’d never had a guy like me back. 

The next part is hard for me to tell.  After all these years I am still ashamed of it, but I’ve promised to write the truth of my life and this is part of that truth.  Mike and I went and hid for the rest of the night, in a little alcove not far from the ball room.  I don’t know how many hours we were there.  We talked, and we could not keep our hands off each other.  The worst part is that Mike had told me he had a girlfriend, Charlie, back home, and I did it anyway.  I wanted the attention so bad, it was hard to resist.  It was something I had never had.  He even told me he loved me, that night, as friends though.  Agape he called it.  I would get disgusted with myself and want to leave, then he would touch me and I would just melt.  He had my number early on. 

The hot and heavy continued for a while, with him even asking if I want to sneak away and make love.  I decided that was not what I wanted for my first time.  I asked him to walk me back to my hotel, which he did.  We said goodbye and I spent the rest of the night talking to my roommate about this horrible thing I had done.  I knew better then to mess with another woman’s man.  I knew better.  I was not raised like that.  My roommate and I made the decision to swear him off and never to see him again.  That was the most logical thing to do. 

The next morning I was full of resolve and self hatred for all that had happened the night before.  I am coming up the escalator and my pastor, and the pastor of the NSU group are desperately trying to get my attention. 

“What’s going on?” I said.

“It’s ML.  He’s been talking about you and asking for you all night.  He’s desperate to see you!  We’ve never seen him like this!  Ilsa you have to go to him.”

“Who the hell is ML?” I ask.

“Mike? You were with him last night.”

“I wasn’t with a Mike last night” I said.

“Michael”

“Oh Michael,” I said.  For some reason it didn’t register in my head that way.   “I don’t want to see him.” 

“Please Ilsa!  Please.”  You know what it’s like when you have two pastors begging you.  They know best, right?

“Okay.  Where is he?”  I finally gave in.  My resolve did not last that long.

Mike was checking out at the front desk.  He embraced me and tried to kiss me.  I turned my head and refused to hug him back.  I was like a limp noodle.  I asked what he wanted.  Mostly he wanted to give me his contact info and asked if he could write me.

Now this was in the early days of the internet, so most people did not email and few people had cell phones back then.  And they sure didn’t text.  Long distance calling on dorm phones required calling cards and were hugely expensive.  Later in our relationship, Mike and I ran up a $500.00 bill on my father’s AT&T calling card. And we didn’t talk that much and we were in the same state!  So in the beginning Mike and I wrote letters to each other.  What harm could a letter do?         

Ilsa